


Ending The Night: Complete Series

by MistressMycroft



Category: Being Human (UK), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Acrophobia Hieghts-flying off ledge of building in dragon form, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst and Hurt/Comfort Angst and Feels Mycroft's past relationship-revealed, Christmas Party Christmas Feels, Dragonlock Shapeshifting Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Dragons Vampires Magic, Dragons flying accross London sky at night, Explicit Sexual Content Angst and Fluff and Smut, Family Bonding Family Drama Family Feels Freindship, Family Fluff, Fantasy AU., Feels Bad Puns, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor Eventual Romance Eventual Happy Ending Eventual Relationships, Gun Violence Possible Character Death, Homophobic Language, Impled/ Referenced- child abandonment issues, Implied Mpreg, Implied/ Referenced body parts in fridge, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Drug Use implied/referanced overdose, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Minor character death/funeral, Jim and sebby have a unique relationship, Kidnapping-Scary Dreams and Nightmares, Mary is not a bad person-implied past John/Mary, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mentioned Mary Morstan, Mentions of dieting/fat jokes-but really its just a secret code, Mind Games, Minor Violence implied/referenced amnesia-magic-original character, Multi, Mycroft Being a Good Brother Holmes Brothers-Feels, Mycroft Feels Fat shaming-from Sherlock, Nudity, Original Character Death(s), Original Character Death(s) mentions of divorce Implied referenced mafia dealings implied, PWP, Serial Killers Alternate Universe - Vampire alternate universe shifters, Sex Shop, Sherlock Being Mean Sherlock Being A Good Brother mostly Sherlock Being a Drama Queen, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Being a Snob Dress shopping Tux Shopping, Shy Mycroft, The Master/Mr. Snow being creepy and evil mentions of The Master/Mr. Snow nude, greg lestrade and sherlock holmes working a case, hameless Smut, implied referenced gun violence Implied/Referenced Child Abuse Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, mentions of needles/Syring/IV's, non explicit Implied Smut Kissing, vampire attack Blood Drinking, watson baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 03:29:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 57,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7205072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressMycroft/pseuds/MistressMycroft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For those who asked for my dragonlock story all in one fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ending The Night: Complete Series

**Author's Note:**

> Some may find it easier to read all in one part instead of the multiple shorter parts.

PART I  
CHAPTER 1

DI Greg Lestrade and Mycroft Holmes first met when Sherlock wandered onto one of NSY’s crime scenes high on drugs. Greg threw Sherlock out, and not a day later did he find the younger man unconscious from overdose and immediately took him to the hospital.

Greg pulled out his phone and began typing.  
Sherlock’s been admitted to hospital. Overdose. – GL

When he didn’t receive a response he let out a string of curses.  
“Inspector Lestrade?” Greg turned to see a doctor walking towards him.  
“Yeah.”  
“Does Mr. Holmes have any next-of-kin that we can contact?” The doctor asked.  
“He has a brother. I’ve been trying to reach him; but no luck.” Greg sighed before asking, “Is he going to be ok?”  
“You did very well getting him here as soon as you did. We’re doing everything we can. The next few hours are extremely crucial. I’ll keep you informed.” The doctor explained.  
“Can I see him? He shouldn’t be alone.” 

The doctor nodded, “He’s in a coma right now.” He led Greg down the hallway towards ICU. “He’s hooked up to numerous machines right now; so it may be a bit of a shock when you first see him.” The doctor warned as he opened the door. Greg did his best to withhold a gasp when he saw Sherlock. The younger Holmes was gaunt in appearance. His heart rate was weak, but constant. He had been connected to a respirator. “If you need anything the nurses are just across the hall. I will be back later to check on him.”

“Thank you, doctor.” Greg replied, pulling a chair up to sit next to the bed. With a nod the doctor exited the room. Greg took one of Sherlock’s hands in his. “Sherlock. Buddy, you have to wake up. You have to fight.” Tears started to spill over Greg’s face. “You stupid idiot. How could you do this? I told you that if you got clean I would let you help out on cases. Why did you have to do this?” Greg stood and walked out of the room. He gave the attending on-duty nurse his card, and told her to call him if anything changed. 

He then proceeded to walk out of the hospital and get into a cab. It was raining hard by the time he got home. He closed the door to the flat behind him and leaned back against it. How could Sherlock have done this to himself, to that brilliant mind of his; and how could that bastard Mycroft Holmes not answer his damn phone. Greg slammed his fists against the door behind him. He shook his head and walked further into the empty flat. The wife was off gods-know-where, and the kids were at her parents’ house for the weekend. He sighed before dropping heavily onto the sofa. 

He looked straight ahead towards the fireplace; drifting in and out of thought. A loud crack jolted him from his stupor. Lightning, great, just great. He closed his eyes and let his head drop back. Another loud crack of thunder sounded and then the room went dark. Great. A few hours later and another crack of thunder the lights flickered back on. A buzzing noise roused him from his defeat. He answered his mobile. 

 

“Hello.”  
“Inspector Lestrade?” A female voice asked.  
“Yes, who is this?” he asked.  
“My name is Susan. I’m a nurse with Saint Michal’s Hospital. I was informed to give you a call….”  
“What’s happened?” Greg interrupted. He felt like his heart would stop at any moment.  
“He’s awake.” She replied. Greg’s eyes snapped open.  
“He’s going to be alright?” Greg asked.  
“The doctor said that he should remain in hospital for the time being, but he will survive.” She elaborated, sounding slightly irritated that he had cut her off.  
“Thank you. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” The nurse hung up.

Greg allowed himself a deep calming breath before standing. 

*****************************Hospital*******************

 

Greg walked as quickly as he could down the numerous hallways from the elevator to Sherlock’s room. When he reached to room he threw open the door. “Sherlock!” He exclaimed. 

“Inspector.” Sherlock replied from where he was sitting up in the hospital bed; only that’s what he noticed last.  
“You bloody bastard,” Greg hissed, stalking towards the figure sitting next to the bed.  
“Good evening to you as well, Inspector Lestrade.” The icy smooth voice replied.  
“I’ve been trying to reach you all day. I left at least twenty messages and texts saying that your little brother had overdosed, and that’s all you have to say. Unbelievable.” Greg yelled, throwing his arms in the air. 

“I would sincerely appreciate it if you could lower your voice,” Mycroft replied, twirling his umbrella handle with his fingertips.  
“And I would appreciate it if you would answer your bloody phone next time,” Greg replied with mock sweetness.  
“I was temporarily unavailable. You do have my assistant’s number, thus you could have called her and she would have relayed the message to me immediately.” Mycroft replied coolly.

“For all the talk you do about how concerned you are for Sherlock, I think I’m more afraid of him dying than you are.” Greg was furious, but he knew he had over-done it when the elder Holmes stopped spinning the umbrella.  
“Lestrade…” Sherlock rasped, drawing Greg’s attention. “You should leave.”  
“Fine,” Greg clenched his fists at his sides. “I’m glad that you’re going to be ok.” He said, turning to walk out.  
“Thank you.” Mycroft’s voice was barely audible to Greg’s ears when he opened the door.  
“I didn’t do it for you.” Greg paused. “If I were you, Mycroft, I would keep my distance.” Greg walked out. 

**************************

 

“Well done, Sherlock.” Mycroft sighed.  
“I assume you are going to try sending me to one of those facilities again.” He whispered.  
“There would be no point in trying that course of action again. No, I have had my people move your things from that dirty hole you call a flat, to mine. I believe that living with me will seem to be more punishment than rehab.” Sherlock pulled a disgusted face. “Your choice: Rehab and weekly visits from Mummy, or living with me and weekly phone calls instead.” 

“Not much of a choice.” Sherlock replied.  
“It’s settled then.”  
“Fine, get me out of here then.”  
“Unfortunately for you the doctor has decided you should remain here for a week; then he will discharge you-into my custody of course.” Mycroft smirked.

“What if I just decide to skip out instead?” Sherlock asked.  
“I have an entire security team waiting for you to try.”  
“You have the most atrocious hobbies.” The younger Holmes rolled his eyes.  
“Once you are completely clean I will pull as many strings as I need to see to it that Inspector Lestrade works with you.” Sherlock’s eyes lit up. “Only, if you get clean and stay that way.”

“Then I have a condition of my own.” Sherlock wheezed.  
“Indeed, and that would be?” Mycroft asked raising an eyebrow.  
“That I am able to find a new flat, you limit your surveillance, and cease this smothering.” Sherlock crossed his arms.  
“Very well, but only if you can keep to our original agreement.”

“Fine. I will stay with you and get clean. Then I get my own flat and work whatever cases Lestrade has that will interest me.” Sherlock agreed reluctantly.  
“And?” Mycroft tilted his head.  
“And I promise to stay clean.” He huffed in annoyance. 

“Good. Then I shall see if I can manage to shorten your stay.” The elder Holmes stood and moved the chair away from the bed. “Oh, one more thing,” Sherlock eyed his brother suspiciously. “Mummy will be stopping by tomorrow morning.”  
“Why? You said phone calls only.” Sherlock whined.  
“I said phone calls only, when you are out of hospital. You didn’t honestly think you would get away with not seeing her at all?” Mycroft smirked before turning to leave.  
“You are twisted, you know that.” Sherlock replied.  
“Pot, Kettle, little brother.” He sneered, walking out of the room.

************************A Few Days Later**********************

Greg walked into his office to find an envelope on his desk. Whoever sent it had immaculately neat handwriting. His name was scrawled across the front in calligraphy. He was curious as to whom the mysterious sender was. There were no obvious details or signs of its origin. 

“Sir, we have a body.” Sargent Donavan interrupted Greg’s musings.  
“Right….Oh, Sally, before you go running off.”  
“Yeah, boss?” She asked with a smile.  
“Do you know who this is from?” Greg held up the envelope.  
“Yep, some pretty bird. Works for that suit, she left it; said to tell you that he was trying to make amends.” Sally replied, ducking out of the office.

“Right,” Greg muttered. Well if Mycroft thinks that he can bribe me as an apology, then he’s got another thing coming, Greg thought as he tore open the envelope. What he found inside was not at all what he expected. It was a simple apology note.

 

Dear Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade,

I apologize for not answering your calls with respect to Sherlock’s overdose. You have every right to be upset with me; especially when I specifically asked you to look out for him on my behalf. I appreciate everything you have done for him thus far. I am extremely grateful to you for saving his life, when I could not see what he was doing to himself. I sincerely hope this letter finds you well. 

With regards,  
M.H.

P.S. Sherlock would like to inquire about the possibility of working some cold cases, whilst he is in recovery. Please do not feel that you are obligated to do so. I am merely requesting an open channel at his behest. 

 

Greg couldn’t believe what he had just read: A sincere apology from Mycroft Bloody Holmes. 

“Sir, the body,” Sally urged from the doorway of his office.  
“Right. I’m coming.” He folded the letter and placed it in the pocket of his jacket as he was walking out the door. 

 

*****************************1 Week later***********************

 

The following week Greg found himself in the backseat of a nondescript black sedan, being driven halfway across London. When the car stopped and he stepped out onto the curb, a handful of files under his arm, he could not believe his eyes. He knew the elder Holmes made good money working for the government, based on the suits the man wore; but he had no idea that the man was this posh. Greg walked up the steps and knocked on the front door. A young man in a black suit (obviously security) answered and let him in. He took Greg’s coat and gun before showing Greg to the living area. 

When Greg entered the room, the sight that greeted him came as a bit of a shock. There lying in front of the fireplace were two medium sized…. dragons; one with shimmering black scales and the other a deep red. They were huddled together, their tails circling around each other in a protective gesture. Greg made the point of clearing his throat. The black dragon jumped at the sound, seemingly waking the red one. The black dragon, having recognized Greg, untangled itself from the other and approached him. Greg wasn’t sure what to do, so he just stood as still as could be and watched the two dragons for signs of aggression. The black one kept looking from Greg’s face to the files in his hand; and Greg instantly knew. 

“Sherlock?” He asked. The black dragon smiled and moved increasingly closer.  
“That’s enough, Sherlock.” Greg looked back towards the fireplace. The red dragon was gone, and in his place stood Mycroft Holmes.  
“I brought some cold case files, as requested.” He held out the files to Sherlock, but it was his brother who took them from his hands.  
“You must forgive Sherlock, he is feeling unwell and tends to revert into a more comfortable state.” Mycroft offered a brief smile. 

“Right.” Was all Greg managed to say.  
“Indeed. I am sure that our heritage may have come as a bit of a shock to you…”  
“Actually it kind of makes sense. Well, with black dragons having the reputation of being unpredictable and all.” Greg smiled.  
“Ah. Not as shocked as I am sure Sherlock hoped you would be.” He replied amused and said black dragon moved to his brother’s side. Mycroft reached a hand out and ran it over his brother’s head. 

“How’s he doing?” Greg asked.  
“Each day is a trial; but I am confident these cold cases will be enough motivation for him to stay clean. It is after all a promise of more exciting things to come.”  
“As long as he stays sober, he can have all the cold cases he wants. One year sobriety and I will give him an open homicide to solve. That’s what I’m offering.” Greg replied. Sherlock looked up at his brother, who gave him a knowing look. The dragon nodded in reply.  
“Good; don’t solve ‘em all in one go, alright? There are only so many I can give you in a month.”

“Thank you Inspector.” Mycroft replied.  
“Right. I’ll check on you in a few weeks and see how it’s going.” Greg shook Mycroft’s hand, retrieved his coat and gun, and climbed back into the nondescript black car waiting to take him home. 

 

CHAPTER 2

It was two years after the association began that Doctor John Watson entered the picture and began living as Sherlock’s flat-mate in 221B Baker Street. Greg was happy that Sherlock found someone who had a good influence on him and was glad to be his friend. It took some of the weight and pressure off of Greg’s shoulders, especially with his hectic personal life. 

After going through a divorce with his unfaithful wife, Greg’s biweekly meetings turned from being kidnapped to an abandoned warehouse by Mycroft to dining with him once a week in some restaurant or another. They had become quite close friends since John came into the picture. Both men seemed able to take a deep breath and relax some, knowing that Sherlock was in safe hands. 

Mycroft sat across from Greg in the coffee shop around the corner from NSY, when Greg officially asked him out on a date, the man sat there silently and blinking a few times before responding.

“A date?” He repeated.  
“Yes.” Greg smiled.  
“With me?” Mycroft tilted his head in confusion.  
“Yes, with you. Is that so hard to believe?” Greg laughed.  
“No.” Mycroft answered.  
“Great, when shall….”  
“You misunderstand me, Gregory. I mean, no, I will not go on a date with you.” Mycroft interrupted.  
“What?” Greg said a bit too loudly, causing the other patrons in the coffee shop to turn and look at them. He lowered his voice. “Why the hell not?” Greg was hoping that he had not misread the man.  
“I…. it is not that I do not find you attractive, but I cannot be in a romantic relationship at this time.” Mycroft sipped his coffee.  
“Can’t be….Who said anything about a romantic relationship? I was only asking for dinner, we do that all the time. Only I just wish we could leave your obnoxious little brother out of our conversations for once.”  
“I am sorry, Gregory. I cannot allow you to see me socially.” He set his cup down on the table in front of him, hands clasped tightly around it.  
“Sorry to burst your bubble Mr. Holmes, but just what do you think we’ve been doing since Sherlock’s been running about with John?” Greg asked. 

“Gregory, what you are describing is the basis for a romantic relationship.” Mycroft sighed.  
“If that’s true, then I hate to break it to you Mycroft; but we’ve been dating for the better part of six months.” Greg snorted.  
“I…No, we have been meeting to discuss Sherlock, nothing more.”  
“You’re in denial.”  
“If you have been under some misguided illusion that these meetings were dates, then I regret to inform you that I am not interested. “

“I never said they were. I only meant that it’s not really a big jump, having dinner and discussing Sherlock, to having dinner and not talking about him.” Greg was frustrated by now.  
“One dinner, that is all. Nothing after that, I will not be persuaded to see you socially.” Mycroft replied.  
“Really…..” Mycroft nodded, “We’ll see about that. Now I have to get back to the Yard.” Greg smiled as he stood and put his coat on. Mycroft’s only reply was avoiding eye contact and a nod. Greg shook his head. “Good day, Mr. Holmes.” 

****************************************  
“Sherlock, please just look at the cases I brought you and I promise that the next big murder case that comes along is yours.” Greg pleaded, looking at John for help. John looked at his flat-mate with a stern expression, which made the consulting detective roll his eyes in response.  
“Fine, but I want first look at the scene and evidence.” Sherlock replied.  
“Great. Thanks.” Greg said running a hand through his hair. The detective looked away.

“Oh, God. What did I do to warrant a visit from you?!” Sherlock whined. Greg looked at him with a confused look on his face. John only shook his head.  
“Such hostility, brother mine.” Greg turned around to see the one and only Mycroft Holmes standing in the doorway, “Inspector.” He nodded at Greg.  
“Mr. Holmes.” Greg replied stiffly. They had hardly spoken since Greg had brought up the subject of wanting to date the man.  
“What do you want, Mycroft?” Sherlock avoided looking at his brother, as if ignoring his presence would make him disappear. Greg moved to sit by John on the sofa. He wanted a good seat for what almost always turned into a fight between the two Holmes brothers. 

“I merely wished to drop by and remind you that our parents are in town and that your presence will be required at dinner tomorrow night.” Sherlock snorted, “John, Mummy has extended an invitation to you as well.”  
“I’m assuming that by invitation, you mean politely demands that I attend?” John asked.  
“Not at all, you may decline if you wish.” Mycroft replied.  
“Aren’t you forgetting someone, brother mine?” Sherlock sneered, inclining his head in Greg’s direction, “You forgot to invite Graham.” 

“Greg!” Three voices shouted at once. Sherlock’s expression turned smug as realization came crashing down on the others in the room. John and Greg looked at Mycroft with amused smiles. The elder Holmes promptly turned and started walking out of the room, his back ramrod straight and gripping his umbrella tightly.  
“Mycroft, you forgot to ask your boyfriend to come to dinner!” Sherlock shouted after him, the smug smile on his face getting bigger as he heard the front door slam.  
“You really shouldn’t have done that, Sherlock. Now, you have upset your brother and thoroughly embarrassed both of them.” John said. Greg looked at John with a straight face, before bursting out in laughter. The smile fell from Sherlock’s face.  
“What is so funny?” John asked.  
“Did you see the look on his face when he realized what he said?” Greg laughed. 

****************************  
That evening Greg received a formal invite to Mummy Holmes’ dinner party. He texted John, who said that he would be using the time away from Sherlock to go on a date; the second text stating that he was going to try to get laid without interference from the consulting detective. Greg laughed to himself at the thought of Sherlock inadvertently cock-blocking his best friend. 

Greg then sent a text off to Mycroft saying that he would be unable to make it to Mummy’s dinner. He didn’t get a reply. Not a surprise really, they had been avoiding each other for over two weeks. They hadn’t even talked on the phone once to discuss the younger Holmes. Greg put his phone down and headed for some much needed sleep. 

 

Four days later he received a text from Mycroft.  
Sending a car, we need to talk.-MH.  
Greg scowled at the text, before replying.  
Fine. 7PM-GL.  
Once again he received no answer. 

Greg spent most of his day filling out paperwork and putting together evidence for court, from the cold cases that Sherlock had solved. Mycroft’s message was nagging at the back of his mind all day. He could not decide what exactly the man wished to talk about. Had he reconsidered Greg’s offer? Somehow he doubted it. Did he just want to ask about his brother? That seemed more likely to Greg. 

Around six-fifty Greg found himself standing outside NSY on the curb, waiting for the sleek black car that he knew would be there any moment. Said car pulled up; it was five minutes late. Mycroft’s car was never late. The driver exited the car and pulled open the back door for Greg. When the door shut behind him, Greg realized that he wasn’t alone in the backseat. 

“You’re late.” Greg said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.  
“Apologies. Although it may appear that I have an unlimited supply of cars, I do not.” Mycroft replied.  
“Is that your way of saying that the spare is in the shop?” Greg asked with a small smile.  
“Indeed.” He nodded, but did not elaborate. Not that Greg expected him to.  
“So. What was it you wanted to talk about?” Greg asked fidgeting in his seat once more.

“You wanted dinner, did you not?” He asked, though he continued to look out the window with a bored expression.  
“You mean… as a date?” Greg hesitated to ask.  
“Indeed.”  
“Seriously?” He couldn’t believe it.  
“Yes.” Mycroft looked at him, “Forewarning, this will be the one and only time.”  
“We’ll see about that.” Greg smiled. The car came to a halt outside of their usual meeting place. 

They exited the car. The hostess seated them in the back of the restaurant, away from prying eyes. The waiter brought a bottle of wine to the table. Greg knew it was costing the other man a fortune. Mycroft poured the wine.

“You’ll have to forgive me; I took the liberty of ordering for us before I left the office.” Mycroft replied.  
“That’s fine. You know what I like.” Greg hoped that it didn’t sound like he was flirting.  
“Indeed.” A small smile crept over Mycroft’s face.

 

*********************************A few weeks later*******************************

“Unless you have a case Lestrade, we have nothing to discuss.” Sherlock sighed loudly.  
“Your brother has missed our weekly meeting! He didn’t even have his assistant call to say he needed to cancel. What else am I to ‘deduce’, other than something is wrong?” Greg asked exasperated.  
“Why do you care?” Sherlock asked, eyeing the older man with suspicion.  
“I care because he’s my friend.” Greg answered. 

“Mycroft doesn’t do friends.” Sherlock sneered.  
“Just like you, until John came along.” Greg shot back.  
“Are you claiming to be Mycroft’s… ‘John’?” Sherlock asked, raising his eyebrows.  
“Yeah, sure. Fine. Whatever.” The older man replied, waving his hands through the air in exasperation. 

Sherlock looked at the man a few seconds longer. His eyes narrowed in concentration, before breaking contact and standing. He moved across the room to find pen and paper. Once located, he proceeded to scribble something down and fold said paper. He then walked back towards Greg, to stand directly in front of him. 

“Here.” He handed Greg the paper.  
“What is it?”  
“You wanted to know where Mycroft was, and that’s the address.” Sherlock slumped back down into his chair.  
“Thank you. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Greg smiled, unfolding the paper. 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”  
“What do you mean?” Greg’s smile faded into a frown.  
“This won’t end well.” Sherlock muttered.  
“Right.” Greg replied confused by the younger man’s statement.  
“Good day, Lestrade.” Sherlock waved a hand at him in dismissal. Greg just shook his head. Child, definitely petulant child.

 

************************

When he reached the destination Sherlock had written down, Greg realized he may have made an error. The address was a residence, not an office, as he had assumed. Greg stepped out of the cab, paid the driver, and slowly walked up the front steps. He took a deep breath and gathered himself together before pressing the button for the doorbell. He heard movement from inside the flat, but no one came to the door. Greg pushed the button again. This time he heard a crackling noise come from the intercom, located next to the doorbell. It continued for a moment before a voice answered. 

 

“Hello?” Was that Mycroft? Greg wondered. The voice seemed strained somehow, almost as if the man was in pain.  
“Mycroft?” Greg asked.  
“Gre…Gregory? What….How did you get this address?” Definitely Mycroft.  
“You missed our meeting and I hadn’t heard from you or your assistant. I was worried something had happened to you.” Greg explained.  
“Anthea’s out with the flu. I was…not feeling well either; thus I forgot to inform you….” The speaker cut out.  
“Mycroft? Mycroft!” Greg asked, concerned. Something about the man’s voice and speech seemed off to him. Not normal for Mycroft Holmes to stutter or forget anything. 

An incessant buzzing sound roused Greg from his musings. It was the door; he was being let in. Greg quickly grabbed the door and entered the flat. He stopped in the main entry way, letting the door swing shut behind him. The lock automatically clicked into place. The room felt extremely cold compared to outside; the air smelled of something sweet. The further into the flat he walked, the stronger the scent became, and the colder it got. Greg found the elder Holmes standing in front of a large empty fireplace. 

“Mycroft? Is everything all right?” Greg asked.  
“Fine… You’ve seen me, now go.” The taller man turned to face him. 

Greg had to hold back a gasp, as he took in the other man’s appearance. Mycroft wore only pants and a loose-fitting house coat. Not at all what you would expect from a man who wears bespoke suits like a second skin. Something was not right. 

“You look like crap, Mycroft. Have you seen a doctor?” Greg asked, stepping closer.  
“I have; and I was assured that it is something that must run its course.” Mycroft replied. 

As he observed the man, Greg could see the constant fidgeting of Mycroft’s posture. The taller man kept switching his weight from one foot to the other and his hands were constantly clenching and unclenching at his side. Two thoughts ran through Greg’s mind. One being that Mycroft was extremely nervous and agitated; or two, he was fighting very hard to maintain his self-control. The latter seemed more likely. When Greg moved forward again, Mycroft took a step back, maintaining the distance between them. 

“You’re lying. This isn’t some flu you are fighting, it’s yourself.” Greg replied, moving closer and closer to the taller man until Mycroft’s back was against the wall. Mycroft turned his head away and closed his eyes. He tensed as if in pain, “What’s going on, Mycroft?” Greg asked harshly.  
“Please…Greg…ory….just leave.” Mycroft stuttered. Greg gasped as the sweet smell hit him again. He looked at Mycroft.  
“Is that you?” Greg breathed, leaning into the taller man.  
“Gregory…please…” Mycroft whispered as the older man leaned in further to bury his nose in Mycroft’s neck. Greg inhaled deeply. The other man went completely still. 

 

“In the academy we were told that a dragon in heat is a dangerous dragon.” Greg replied, “Are you a danger to me, Mycroft?”  
“I…Not if you…leave.” He breathed.  
“And if I don’t?” Greg asked, moving back to see the other man’s face. He let out a noise that was between a gasp and a hiss. Mycroft’s eyes were completely dilated: Hardly any blue visible, and he was looking at Greg as if he wished to devour him.

“Last chance…Gregory.”  
“I’m not leaving.” Greg stood his ground until he saw the feral look on Mycroft’s face. He stumbled backwards in fear catching his leg on something. He was sent sprawling to the floor on his back. “Mine.” It was only just loud enough for Greg to hear it; as the taller man came towards Greg and straddled him.  
“Mycroft.” Greg gasped when he felt the man’s arousal against his belly. 

“I’m going…to use…you Gregory.” He paused to lean down and whisper into the older man’s ear, “Use you…like a breeding stud.” Greg let out a moan.  
“Whatever you want.”  
“Then follow me.” Mycroft moved off the man. He stood, and made his way to the staircase behind Greg. 

Greg took a minute to just breathe. Standing, he followed Mycroft’s path up the stairs. It wasn’t the sweet scent that led him to the upstairs bedroom, but the trail of clothing strewn about the floor. Mycroft must be desperate if he was treating any of his clothing so poorly. When he reached the bedroom, the door had been left ajar. Greg walked in and closed the door behind him. He moved towards the bed and thought his heart might give out at the sight before him. Mycroft lay in the middle of the bed, legs splayed wide. His eyes were closed, his bottom lip captured between his teeth, and one hand wrapped around his cock.

“Gregory…” He moaned.  
“God you’re beautiful.” Greg murmured. Mycroft’s eyes snapped open.  
“Then strip.” Mycroft hissed, and Greg complied. Once divested of his clothing, Greg slowly crawled his way up Mycroft’s body. The man let out a low, desperate moan.  
“You truly are beautiful, Mycroft. I could spend days just looking at you. All these freckles…”Greg sighed as he trailed a hand up and down Mycroft’s arm and shoulder. 

“I was…hoping you…would do more…than look.” Mycroft’s hand left his own cock in favor of grasping Greg’s.  
“Oh.” Greg threw his head back as Mycroft pumped his shaft. It had been so long since anything but his own hand had touched his body. 

Wanting to return the favor, he reached down and took a hold of Mycroft’s cock. As he began pumping, Greg was rewarded with a string of gasps and moans from the man beneath him. Greg watched as an expression of pleasure rolled over Mycroft’s face. 

“Please…Gregory…” Mycroft whined.  
“What is it, Mycroft? What do you need?” Greg asked as the hand on his own cock began to falter and then stop. Greg stilled his own hand as he waited for an answer.  
“Fuck me.” Mycroft moved his legs up to encase Greg between them. 

“All right. Do we need…”  
“No. Dragon’s produce their own….” Mycroft let out another whine as Greg shifted his hips down. He settled within the cradle of the taller man’s hips. Mycroft was breathing hard and letting out little moans of satisfaction as Greg moved his hand down to the man’s hole. When he pushed one finger in, Mycroft let out a cry of pleasure.  
“You’re…wet.” Greg mumbled in disbelief. 

“Naturally produced…Ah… when…Oh…in heat.” Mycroft moaned. Greg responded by sliding in another finger. Slowly he began to thrust them in and out.  
“Please…Just…” Mycroft pleaded.  
“But…I don’t want to hurt you.”  
“You won’t…now please.” Mycroft shifted his hips further on to Greg’s fingers. Ignoring the man’s protests, Greg inserted a third finger. He angled the thrusts just right, hitting the prostate.  
“Oh…Greg…gory.” Mycroft cried, his cock giving a spurt of pre-cum. 

“Oh, god that’s hot.” Greg gasped, before removing his fingers. “Do we need…um…”Greg felt stupid for bumbling like a school boy, “Condoms?”  
“I know… you’re clean.”  
“What about you?” Greg asked.  
“I’ve…never…” Mycroft moved away, blushing with embarrassment. He opened the drawer of the bedside table, reaching inside he withdrew a foil packet. 

“You’re…you never had…sex?” Greg asked quietly, bringing a hand up to caress the man’s hair.  
“No…I was twenty three when…I had my last heat.”  
“Jesus, Mycroft. You’ve been on suppressants that long?”  
“Yes.” He whispered, handing the packet to the older man. 

“That’s…not healthy.” He took the packet with one hand and continued to run the other through Mycroft’s hair.  
“I know…Doctor…took me off them.”  
“Good.” Greg replied placing a chaste kiss to the man’s cheek.  
“She said…I…” Tears slipped from Mycroft’s eyes.  
“Hey. It’s ok…tell me.” Greg encouraged.  
Mycroft turned back to look at him, “I would…die if I continued…”  
“Oh….Mycroft.”  
“I…couldn’t…leave Sherlock…alone.” Mycroft replied blinking back tears.  
“He won’t be alone, and neither will you.” Greg leaned down and pressed his lips to Mycroft’s. 

The kiss started off chaste, but quickly deepened; Mycroft’s tongue dancing with his. They pulled apart for air. The intensity of their desire crackled in the space between them. Greg tore open the packet and rolled the condom over his hardened flesh, before returning his attention back to his lover. 

“Ready?” Greg asked, cupping Mycroft’s cheek.  
“Yes.” Mycroft gasped. Greg reached between them and lined up his cock. He pressed forward slowly and gently. Mycroft’s eyes closed, a quiet moan escaping his lips.  
“Oh…” Greg gasped as he slowly pushed in further. Once fully seated inside, Greg stilled; waiting. “You alright?”  
“Perfect.” Mycroft smiled, opening his eyes to meet those of his lover, “Please.” He encouraged.  
“Whatever you want, beautiful.” Greg smiled, placing another kiss on the taller man’s lips. As they deepened the kiss Mycroft canted his hips upward, earning him a groan from his lover. Fuck.  
“Please.” Mycroft chuckled against Greg’s lips.

Greg pulled back from the taller man, his cock slipping almost free. Just the tip remained inside his gasping lover. Greg pushed back in until his ballocks rested on the swell of his lover’s arse. Mycroft locked his arms and ankles around Greg’s back, encouraging him. 

“More.” He whispered.  
“With pleasure.” Greg replied, pulling out and thrusting back in with a little more effort.  
“Ah….Yes…please Gregory.” Mycroft moaned, raking his nails up Greg’s back in ecstasy. 

Greg began thrusting at a much more rigorous pace. Mycroft cried out in rapturous pleasure. His abdominal muscles began tightening, white hot heat curling in the pit of his stomach.

“Please….Gregory…” Mycroft moaned.  
“What is it….tell me what you need.” Greg panted.  
“Close….please….so…” Mycroft pleaded as his orgasm began to crest.  
“Fuck…yes…almost…” Greg groaned when his own climax threatened to overwhelm him. His thrust starting to become erratic, pounding the taller man’s prostate relentlessly. 

“Gregory….I’m…” Mycroft closed his eyes and threw his head back as his climax rippled through him. His hands clutched desperately at the older man’s shoulders.  
“Fuck. Mycroft.” Greg growled. Mycroft’s climax caused his inner muscles to grip the older man’s cock like a vice; his own cock releasing stream after stream onto his stomach and that of his lover. 

Greg fell over the edge, crying his pleasure to the ceiling; eyes screwed shut in sweet agony. Mycroft whimpered as his lover’s thrusts stuttered and then finally ceased with their mutual climax. Greg rolled off to the side in order to avoid crushing the younger man. They lay next to each other, both panting with the effort of their shared release. Mycroft opened his eyes to look at his newly found lover, only to find Greg staring back at him in awe. 

“That was….” Greg smiled.  
“Please don’t…” Mycroft cut him off and turned to look away.  
“Amazing.” Greg finished. Mycroft’s head whipped around, his eyes wide, and mouth agape.  
“Wh..what?” He asked. Greg rid himself of the soiled condom, dropping it into the bin next to the bed.  
“I said, that was amazing.” Greg replied. He rolled off the bed into a standing position and made his way to the en-suit.  
“I….really?” Mycroft asked as Greg returned with a wet flannel.  
“God. You really don’t know how to take a complement, do you?” He laughed, moving to straddle Mycroft’s thighs. 

Mycroft whimpered as Greg drew the wet flannel over the man’s sensitive skin, cleaning up the evidence of his obvious enjoyment. Mycroft didn’t know how to respond, so he drew Greg into a kiss. He poured everything he had into that kiss, and when they parted for air Mycroft smiled. For knowing that at last, he’d been filled in the way his body craved. In that moment he decided to never again deny his body’s natural urges ever again, for he knew that Gregory would be there…….  
CHAPTER 3

 

{Three months and several “Not Dates” later}

“Is this what you call ‘not being in a romantic relationship’?” Greg asked looking at the man lying next to him in bed.  
“You have made your point, Gregory.” Mycroft replied with a smile.  
“Have I?” He smirked.  
“Several times.” Mycroft smiled back.  
“Should I make my point again, just to be sure?” Greg moved to kiss him, but Mycroft had been too quick and began to roll over to get out of the bed. Greg frowned, why had Mycroft gone from red hot to ice cold instantaneously, “My, is everything all right?”

“Fine, I just wish to clean up before retiring for the evening.” He stood and walked towards the en-suite bathroom. Greg watched him go, his eyes trailing from the man’s neck to his luscious backside. His smile was unsure. He had managed to get Mycroft to allow him to take him to bed numerous times since the man’s heat, but he still felt that his lover was keeping him at arm’s length. Greg shook his head. He just didn’t understand the man; he was a walking contradiction. Mycroft exited the bathroom wearing his customary satin pajamas and robe. When finished tying the belt he looked up, his face held a mixed expression of surprise and confusion. It disappeared instantly to be replaced with his usual unreadable mask. 

“Don’t do that.” Greg said, sitting up as Mycroft approached the bed.  
“What? Did I do something wrong?” Mycroft asked turning to look at him as he sat on his side of the bed.  
“You know what. You’re doing it again, Mycroft. You’re putting your mask back on and pushing me away.” Greg said propping himself up against the headboard.  
“Mask? Gregory, what on earth are you referring to?” Mycroft raised an eyebrow.  
“Just now, when you walked out of the bathroom you looked at me….well, you looked at me like you weren’t expecting me to be here. It was like you were confused and then your face changed back to that unreadable mask you present to everyone else.”

“I did not realize,” he replied, looking away.  
“Yes, you do. Please just tell me what you are thinking. Don’t put those walls back up; I tried so very hard to tear them down these last few months.” Greg reached a hand out and placed it on his lover’s shoulder.  
“Don’t.” Mycroft whispered and Greg quickly withdrew his hand.  
“Please, just tell me what I did wrong?” Greg asked quietly  
“Nothing, you did nothing wrong.” Mycroft whispered back.

 

“Then what is it?”  
“I…I told you when we first started this that I did not wish for a relationship. I cannot continue to do this, Gregory. It is too painful.” Mycroft stood.  
“Oh, god. Mycroft, did I hurt you? I know that I was a bit rough, but I didn’t think…”  
“It’s not the sex, Gregory! It’s me; I cannot put myself through this again!”  
“What the bloody hell are you going on about?” Greg asked, climbing over the covers to where Mycroft was standing, grasping him by the shoulder, and turning him around.  
“Loving someone! “ Mycroft replied loudly. A look of pain and embarrassment crossed his face.  
“Love….You’re afraid of loving me?” Greg asked.  
“Yes. I cannot do it again, not after…” Mycroft’s knees gave out and he collapsed forward. Greg grasped him tightly and pulled him onto the bed so he wouldn’t fall to the floor. 

“My…..” Greg hesitated as the man in his arms clung to him.  
“Please…I can’t.” He whispered.  
“We’ll talk in the morning, yeah.” Greg whispered softly.  
“Tomorrow.” Mycroft’s answer was almost inaudible as he shifted into his small dragon form. Greg held him to his chest. He got into bed and pulled the blankets up around them. He cuddled the small dragon under the covers. 

*********************The Following Moring**********************************************

Greg woke to find the space next to him empty. He got up and used the bathroom before getting dressed and heading down stairs. He found Mycroft sitting at the kitchen table with his morning tea. In front of him sat a photograph. He looked up as Greg entered and sat down adjacent to him. Greg looked at the picture; he recognized the young ginger as Mycroft, but not the young handsome blond. 

“Who was he?” Greg nodded towards the photograph.  
“His name was James.” Mycroft sipped his tea.  
“You were in love.” Greg replied.  
“Yes.”  
“What happened?”  
“He died.” Mycroft replied.  
“May I ask how, or would that be insensitive?”  
“It’s fine.” Mycroft set his cup down and took a breath before continuing, “We met when I first started working for the government. He was an agent for MI-6; I was hired to be his handler.”  
“I knew it, you’re M.” Greg replied. When Mycroft looked away Greg realized his mistake and moved to hold Mycroft’s hand, “Sorry.”

 

 

“In a sense you are correct. He was a double-0 and it was my job to keep him safe during missions. He and I began to grow closer as time went on. We became lovers and eventually civil partners. He was put on an assignment that he later became obsessed with. I tried to warn him….. He did not listen. I sent him on his next mission, knowing that he was out of control and I got him killed.” Mycroft whispered the last part.

“It’s not your fault, Mycroft. You can’t blame….”  
“But it was, I didn’t report him or have him pulled off the case when I should have.” Mycroft pulled his hand away.  
“How long?” Greg asked.  
“Fifteen years.” Mycroft replied.  
“Fifteen years….bloody hell, Mycroft. You’ve been alone for fifteen years?” Greg was shocked. He looked at Mycroft. The man had been in mourning for that long, no wonder it had been a nightmare trying to get to know him on a more personal level.  
“Yes!” He stood and looked at Greg. The mask was back in place, “I think you should leave.”  
“No.” Greg stood. He was not going to just stand idly by and let the man he loved…oh god…he loved Mycroft. No, he would stay and talk some sense into the man. 

“Please do not make a scene, Gregory.” Mycroft turned to walk towards the kitchen.  
“My, I want you to know that…..”  
“Don’t! Please do not say it!” Mycroft hissed.  
“I love you!” Greg all but yelled. Mycroft stopped in his tracks and spun to face Greg.  
“Why? Why did you have to do this?” Mycroft asked.  
“Why? Because you made me: all you ever do is work and worry about Sherlock. You never do anything for yourself. For once can’t you just let someone else do the caring for you?” Greg replied. He turned and walked to the front door. “Let me know when you decide to come back to the world of the living.” And with that, Greg left, slamming the door behind him.

********************************Two weeks Later***************************************

“Mycroft! Don’t you have something more important to do, like starting a war or something?” Sherlock asked, flopping down in his chair.  
“Sherlock, could you for once be nice to your brother?” John asked.  
“No.” Sherlock replied.  
“Just think it over, brother mine.” Mycroft stood and left 221B. When he opened the front door he was almost hit by a fist getting ready to knock on the door. Luckily, Mycroft had fast reflexes and dodged it just in time. The man trying to knock tumbled forward almost falling to the floor, but recovered just in time. 

 

 

“What the bloody hell is wrong wi….” The man started but upon seeing Mycroft’s face he stopped.  
“Detective Inspector.” Mycroft nodded before continuing on his way out the door.  
“Myc…Mr. Holmes, a word. Please.” Greg emphasized the last.  
“I am terribly sorry, Detective Inspector but I am late for a very important meeting.” Mycroft continued to walk to the waiting nondescript black car.  
“I’ll only take a minute of your time, Mr. Holmes.” Greg replied. He noticed how Mycroft’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Very well.” Mycroft opened the back door on the driver’s side and got in. Greg followed and closed the door. “What is it that you thought so import…omf.” Greg settled himself in the man’s lap and pressed his lips against his own. Mycroft brought his hands up to Greg’s arms with the intention to shove him away, but he felt himself giving into the feeling of how right it felt to be in the man’s arms once again. He opened his mouth to Greg’s wandering tongue, making the other groan in surprise and pleasure. The kiss heated up quickly and they began tearing at each other’s clothing, both desperate to feel the other’s skin under their hands. Greg loosened Mycroft’s tie and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt. He moved his lips along Mycroft’s jaw and down his neck. 

“Gregory,” Mycroft moaned.  
“Yes, My,” He whispered into his lover’s ear.  
“I….We cannot do this.” He replied but made no move to push Greg away.  
“Yes, we can. All you have to do is let go. Let me take care of you. Let me love you.” Greg punctuated each with a kiss until he had reached the man’s lips again.  
“I don’t know if I can.” Mycroft whispered against his lips.  
“I love you, Mycroft Holmes, and nothing you say can change that.”  
“I don’t love you.” Mycroft replied. Greg pulled away and looked Mycroft directly in the eye. Mycroft was biting his bottom lip and his eyes shifted away and then back again. It would have been almost unnoticeable if Greg hadn’t been taking all the time they spent together to study the other man’s habits.  
“You, Mycroft Holmes, are a liar.” Greg whispered.  
“What?” Mycroft blinked multiple times as if he was trying to compute what had just been said to him.  
“You heard me.” Greg hadn’t moved from where he was perched in the other man’s lap.  
“I….no one has ever…how?” Mycroft stuttered. 

“You have a tell.”  
“No I do not.” He replied, as if the very idea of it was absurd.  
“You bite your bottom lip and try very hard not to avoid eye contact. I doubt even Sherlock has ever noticed.” Greg smirked.  
“Do I?” he asked, repeating the gesture.  
“You’re doing it right now.” Mycroft released his bottom lip immediately and fixed Greg with an intense icy stare. 

“God, do you know how beautiful your eyes are?” Greg asked as he admired the shocking blue that stared back at him. Mycroft’s eyebrow rose. “I could drown in them.”  
“You are a hopeless romantic, Gregory Lestrade.” Mycroft reached a hand up and cupped his cheek.  
“For you, definitely.” Greg placed his hand over his lover’s.  
“I cannot promise that loving me will be an easy task, nor can I guarantee your safety if you and I continue this relationship.” Mycroft warned.  
“I’ll take what I can get, and to hell with the consequences.” Greg grabbed him by the lapels of his suit and pulled him in for another kiss.  
CHAPTER 4

 

In the weeks following the incident in the back of Mycroft’s car, they had moved in together, and began talking about bringing Greg’s two teenage kids into the picture. Greg’s ex-wife took immediate offense when she found out that Greg was seeing a man. She refused to talk to him or let him have contact with the kids for a week after that. Greg imagined it had more to do with his boyfriend being a better catch than any of hers. He laughed every time he thought about it. 

When she finally calmed down enough, Greg convinced her to let Stephanie and Marcus to stay the weekend with Greg and Mycroft. So, that Friday afternoon Mycroft sent a car to pick the two teens up from school. Greg had sent them a text saying as much, because he had been called in at the last minute for a homicide. 

When the two teens arrived at the flat they were greeted by Mycroft’s security.  
“You want to check our bags? For what? You want to make sure I’ve done all my homework?” Stephanie sassed. The suit gave her an unamused look as he shuffled through her papers.  
“Wow. This is crazy. It’s like Da’s dating the PM or something.” Marcus joked.  
“They’re clean.” The suit replied opening the door.  
“Gee, Thanks.” Stephanie replied snatching her school bag out of the security guard’s hands. They closed the door quietly behind the two teens. 

“Oi. Da didn’t say anything about this guy being this Posh.” Marcus laughed.  
“It’s a museum, I’m afraid to sit on the furniture.” Stephanie replied.  
“Feel free to scuff up the floors and destroy the décor as you see fit. I do.” A voice said from the living room sofa. The teens moved further into the room.  
“Please tell me you’re not Da’s boyfriend.” Marcus sighed as the two teens rounded the sofa. 

“No! God, no!” the stranger replied, leaning forward and looking at the two curiously.  
“You’re Sherlock, aren’t you?” Stephanie asked with a grin.  
“Indeed. Though I am curious as to why you two are here?”  
“Well, Da sent…”

“Sherlock!” The three of them looked up to see Mycroft standing in the entry way. “I believe you have a case that you should be attempting to solve.” He raised an eyebrow in challenge.  
“Dull. Lestrade can solve it himself.” Sherlock huffed, leaning back into the sofa.  
“On your way out please leave the keycard you stole, with security.” Mycroft replied coolly, whilst hanging up his coat and placing his umbrella in its holder near the door.  
“Fine.” Sherlock grumbled as he lifted himself off the sofa with a lazy cat-like grace. He paused at the door and looked at Mycroft. “One question.” He said, nodding towards the two teens. 

“I am merely lending a helpful hand to the Detective inspector. A favor for all the times he’s looked after you.” Mycroft replied, setting down his briefcase.  
“I don’t believe you.” Sherlock remarked, regarding his brother with a calculating gaze.  
“Goodbye, Brother Mine.” Mycroft ushered him out the door. Once closed, Mycroft took a deep breath, closing his eyes to momentarily gather himself. 

 

“A favor? Ta’ for that.” Marcus replied. Mycroft’s eyes snapped open and he turned around.  
“Forgive me, I was simply trying to avoid dramatics from my brother. This is not how I hoped our first meeting would go.”  
“You use a lot of words. Do you realize that?” Stephanie asked.  
“Unfortunately unavoidable for a man in my position to do anything less.” Mycroft replied.  
“You’re Da’s boyfriend?” Marcus asked skeptically.

“Indeed.” He paused, “Am I to gather from your expressions and attitude that Gregory neglected to tell you anything about me?” Not that he really needed to ask; he had already deduced that they had no idea what to expect when they arrived.  
“All we got was a name and a quick explanation of the situation this afternoon.” Marcus hissed.  
“You have a really nice car.” Stephanie interjected trying to diffuse the situation.  
“I was in an important meeting this afternoon, otherwise I would have been there in person to pick you up from school.” Mycroft replied.

“You have any rules for this museum?” Marcus asked.  
“I request that you do not place your shoes on any of the furniture.”  
“Anything else?” He challenged.  
“I would appreciate it if you left the upstairs master bedroom and office in peace.”  
“So if I was dying for a snack…”

“The kitchen is all yours; but please do not use the oven or stove without permission.”  
“Cool. Mum doesn’t let us near any appliances either.” Marcus replied.  
“Not that she would know how to use any of them.” Stephanie mocked.  
“I confess that I do not cook often, myself.” Mycroft walked further into the living room.  
“So….about that snack?” Marcus asked with a small smile.

“Ah, yes. If you would follow me,” He led them through the house to the kitchen.  
“How can you have a kitchen like this and not cook?” Stephanie gasped, running her hands over the granite counter tops and Marcus opened various drawers and cabinets.  
“Now I get why Da’s dating him; for his kitchen.” Marcus laughed. Stephanie looked at Mycroft and giggled. Mycroft tilted his head and looked at them in confusion. 

“Da never told you?” Stephanie asked, amused.  
“Obviously, Sis.” Marcus rolled his eyes.  
“Please enlighten me.”  
“Da loves to cook. Grandma Rosey taught him. He’s a brilliant cook.”  
“When he has the time. Not that we blame him for mum’s crappy roast.” Marcus said with a hint of cynicism. 

“I see.” Mycroft replied. Marcus went to the fridge and opened it. He let out a surprised yelp and slammed the door shut. “You ah…. There’s…please tell me it’s a sick joke.” Marcus stuttered. Mycroft moved to the fridge. Marcus stepped back to stand next to his sister.  
Mycroft opened the door, before quickly shutting it again. “Dear Lord.” He exclaimed. One hand clutching the door handle tightly.  
“You didn’t know that was there?” Marcus asked. 

“No.” Mycroft closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. If he didn’t spend so much time and effort trying to keep his little brother alive, he would throttle him. He let out a deep sigh when he felt the buzz of his mobile. He fished the bothersome thing out of his pocket. “Give me one reason not to sick mummy on you, Sherlock.” Mycroft answered venomously.  
“Oh, good, you got my gift.” Sherlock laughed.  
“Not amusing. Couldn’t you have kept it at Baker Street or Saint Barts?” Mycroft asked exasperated.  
“Where would the fun be in that?” 

“Sherlock…we have a case….” Mycroft could hear John talking to Greg in the background.  
“Put the good doctor on the phone, Sherlock.” Mycroft hissed.  
“He’s busy…” Sherlock sneered, looking towards the man in question.  
“Sherlock, give me that bloody phone and help Greg.” John chided, taking the phone. “Hello?”  
“Dr. Watson, if you would be so kind as to ask Miss. Hooper to refrain from giving my darling brother any more body parts for the time being; I would be extremely grateful.” Mycroft responded in agitation.  
“Jesus Christ! Don’t tell me that you found it in your fridge?” John exclaimed.  
“Found what?” Mycroft heard Greg ask in the background.  
“Unfortunately I was not the first to discover it.” 

“Sherlock, what did you put in your brother’s fridge?” Greg’s voice increased in volume with his concern.  
“If you didn’t find it, who did?” John suppressed a giggle.  
“Gregory’s son and daughter.”  
“Oh, shit.” John gulped.  
“What?” Greg yelled in the background.  
“I said, a sever…” Sherlock began to explain.  
“Um…hold on.” Mycroft waited impatiently as he heard muffled voices talking in the background. There was some noise, muffled shouting, and then a click. Mycroft looked at his phone. He had been hung up on. 

“Sherlock?” Stephanie asked.  
“Indeed. His idea of a joke. Though it is more likely that he was told to remove it from Baker Street and he thought it a brilliant idea to put it in my fridge instead.” Mycroft shuddered.  
“He do that often?” Marcus asked.  
“Unfortunately.”  
“Well, at least life in this house won’t be boring.” Stephanie giggled. Suddenly a loud whooshing noise filled the room. 

“What is that?” Mycroft asked, looking around cautiously.  
“Sorry. That’s my ring tone.” Marcus pulled out his phone. “It’s Da….Hello.” He answered. “Yah, he’s right here.” Marcus held his phone out to the elder Holmes.  
“Gregory?” Mycroft asked gingerly.  
“Just tell me the kids aren’t scarred for life.” Greg said sternly.  
“I do not believe they suffered any ill effects.” Mycroft replied at the smile on Stephanie’s face.  
“Thank God.” Greg sighed, “I would have hated to have had to shoot your brother.”  
“Yes, that would have been most unpleasant for all involved.” Mycroft agreed.

 

****************************Later that evening************************

 

“Gregory?” Mycroft called softly from the living room when he heard the front door open.  
“Yes, My?” Greg answered. Walking into the room, cloths soaked through.  
“What in the world?” He asked standing and setting his book aside.  
“Sherlock. He decided that we needed to follow the suspect into the Thames.” Greg scowled.  
“Upstairs, now.” Mycroft ordered. 

“What?” Greg asked.  
“You need to get those wet clothes off and take a warm bath. It’s the middle of winter, you’ll catch cold.” Mycroft explained, grasping Greg’s hand and pulling him towards the stairs.  
“Fine.” Greg let himself be pulled along, before pausing halfway up the steps. “My?” Greg asked.  
“Come along.” He replied.  
“Mycroft.” Greg hissed. The taller man turned around to look at him.  
“Yes.”  
“Where are the kids?” Greg asked.

“Sleeping. I had the guest rooms made up for them.”  
“Thank you.” Greg replied, his frown lessening.  
“You are welcome. Now we need to get you out of those wet clothes.” He said, turning and pulling Greg up the remainder of the stairs.  
Once in the privacy of The Master bedroom, Mycroft began divesting the older man of his clothing.  
“Mycroft. I can do this myself. I’m not helpless.” Greg chuckled. The other man removed his hands immediately.  
“I’ll run a bath for you.” He replied, avoiding Greg’s eyes. He disappeared into the en-suite.

Greg shook his head as he finished removing his shirt and trousers. He still had trouble reading Mycroft’s moods. The man was a constant contradiction. Greg removed his pants, gathered his soaked clothing, and walked into the en-suite. Mycroft was bent over the large tub, his hand mixing something into the bath water. Greg smiled to himself as he placed his things into the hamper. He then walked up behind his lover and wrapped his arms around the man. Mycroft went rigid. Greg nuzzled the back of the taller man’s neck, inhaling the masculine sent of his cologne. 

“Gregory?” Mycroft whispered.  
“You’re warm.” Greg sighed. Mycroft turned in his lovers arms.  
“You’re chilled to the bone.” He said, placing a hand on Greg’s chest and running the other up and down his arm.  
“Maybe you should warm me up.” Greg replied with a cheeky grin.  
“You’ll be warm, if you behave and step into the bath I have prepared for you.” Mycroft replied stepping away towards the bedroom.

“You’re doing it again, My.” The taller man stopped at the door. “What’s got you all upset?” Greg asked.  
“I…I wanted to…I fear it may have been too soon to bring the children into this.” Mycroft replied softly. Greg moved towards him.  
“You’re upset about earlier. Sherlock leaving that gift for you and the kids finding it. I’m sure it was shocking to all involved; but if Stephanie was giggling, then no harm done.” Greg placed a hand on the man’s arm.  
“I do not think they like me.” Mycroft sighed.  
“Give them time to get used to the idea of us together. It’s new, like the ex’s latest boy toy moving in…” Greg paused. He hadn’t even thought about how much things had changed for them since the divorce. “It’s not you, My. The ex has a new boy toy about every other month and I’m sure it confuses them.” Greg pulled Mycroft back towards the tub. “Stephanie seems to be coping, but I’m worried about Marcus.” 

“He’s…he needs someone to talk to, Gregory.” Mycroft replied, grasping the older man’s hands in his own.  
“What do you mean?” Greg asked.  
“He needs to talk to you, but has been unable to… express himself.” Mycroft kissed Greg’s hands.  
“He’s…I’ll talk with him tomorrow. You’ll spend the day with Stephanie.” Greg said, pulling his hands back. “Now…about that bath.” He grinned trailing a hand down the front of Mycroft’s suit. 

************************The next day**************************

“So. What’s the plan for today, Da?” Stephanie asked once the four of them had finished breakfast.  
“Well…I thought that Marcus and I could spend some time together; while you interrogate Mycroft.” Greg smiled and gave the taller man a wink. Mycroft blushed and turned to look at Stephanie.  
“So, what do you do for fun?” Stephanie asked.  
“I…I don’t have much leisure time, but I enjoy reading.” Mycroft honestly didn’t know what to tell her. He rarely had time to himself that he did not spend with Greg. 

“Reading?” Stephanie asked skeptically. Mycroft blushed.  
“What did you expect him to say, sis. That he and Da spend all their free time go…ow...” Marcus rubbed the back of his head and looked at his Da.  
“Ha.” Stephanie giggled.  
“Not appropriate, young man.” Greg growled. He gave Mycroft an apologetic look.  
Mycroft cleared his throat. “Perhaps you would like to see the music room.” He stood from the table.  
“I would love to!” Stephanie replied with a wide grin. “What do you play?” She asked as the taller man led her out of the dining room.

Once alone Greg turned to attention back to Marcus.  
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have been so rude.” The boy replied.  
“Look, Marcus. I know things haven’t easy since the divorce, but…”  
“She’s been terrible… almost every guy she’s been with since you left has turned out to be a complete loser.”  
“I’m sorry. You can be sure that I’ll be talking to your mum about this.” 

“Are things good with you and…” Marcus nodded his head towards the door.  
“Very.” Greg replied.  
“Stephanie wants to come live with the two of you.”  
“What about you? What do you want?” Greg asked.

“I want a stable home.” Marcus sighed, “and someone who…” He looked away.  
“Someone who understands you?” Greg asked quietly.  
Marcus looked back at Greg. “Mum’s new boyfriend…he found…magazines in my pack…”  
“Magazines? Like girly magazines.”  
“No…”  
“Ah.” Greg scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Well…I…”  
“I’m gay, Da!” Marcus all but yelled.  
“Well that was sort of implied with the magazine bit, wasn’t it?” Greg replied, standing from the table.  
“I…well yeah I guess it was.” Marcus mumbled.  
“Still love yah.” Greg chuckled pulling Marcus from his seat and into a tight hug.  
“Love you too, Da.” Marcus mumbled as he hugged his father in return.

*****************************The Music Room***********************

“So you’ve got a room full of musical instruments and you don’t play?” Stephanie asked.  
“I never said I didn’t play.” Mycroft replied.  
“Mmmm. That’s why there’s a layer of dust on everything.” Stephanie ran a finger over the surface of the grand piano.  
“In truth, I haven’t played in years.” He replied, sitting down at the piano and revealing its keys.  
“But you can play?” Stephanie asked, sitting down next to him. Mycroft played a few notes, which were slightly off-key.

“I’m a bit rusty.” He gave her a weak smile. Stephanie replied by playing a few keys of “twinkle-twinkle little star”.  
“Amusing,” he answered with a few notes of his own.  
“I thought so.” She smiled before really setting to work her hands over the keys. She began to play the beginnings of a piece by Bach. Mycroft looked at her with a softened expression.  
“What?” She asked at his curious expression. “I thought you were a classical type of man.”  
“Indeed I am.” He replied.  
“Feel free to join at any time.” She replied.

Mycroft’s fingers began gliding over the keys with determined perfection. “You’ve had lessons.” It was more a deduction that question.  
“Yes. I’ve liked playing since I was young. Da had me start lessons when I was five. I guess I took to it extremely well.”  
“I would say you have a natural talent that not many possess.” Mycroft replied.  
“Thank you. You’re pretty good for being rusty.” Stephanie giggled. Mycroft returned her smile. 

 

***********************Baker Street*************************

 

“Sherlock?” John called out when he found the main living area of the flat empty. “Mrs. Hudson.”  
“Behind you, dear.” John turned to see her standing in the doorway of the kitchen and stairwell.  
“Have you seen Sherlock?” He asked.  
“He’s feeling under the weather. I think that swim he took last night is what did it.” She replied, a bowl of hot liquid in her hands.  
“Is he alright?” John asked, “He seemed fine when I went to bed last night.” John said, concerned.  
“He hasn’t been taking good care of himself, which has left his immune system highly compromised.”  
A low rumbling growl came from Sherlock’s room. 

“I should get this soup to him before he throws a fit and destroys the whole flat.” She moved down the hall towards the younger Holmes’ bedroom. Another low, pained growl came from the room as Mrs. Hudson opened the door. Curious, John followed her into the room. He had never really been one to frighten easily; but the sight before him terrified John beyond anything the war had thrown at him. For the first time in his life he was truly afraid. 

“What the hell is that!” John yelled. Protruding out from underneath the blankets was a long black tail. The lump shifted and a large snout poked out; nostrils flaring.  
“Now Sherlock, behave.” Mrs. Hudson put the bowl of soup down on the bedside table.  
“Sherlock! Mrs. Hudson…that’s a beast….” John cried.  
“Oh, dear. Did he not tell you?” She gasped.  
“Tell me? Tell me what; that he had a great big beast for a pet?” John hissed. 

The lump on the bed moved again; this time it began to decrease in size until it was just the bulk of a pillow. When it moved towards the edge of the blankets, John took a precautionary step backwards. Mrs. Hudson lifted up the edge to reveal a miniature dragon. 

“Forgive me, John.” It spoke, moving closer to Mrs. Hudson.  
“Sh…Sherlock?” John stuttered in horror.  
“I wanted to tell you….I should ha…” Sherlock rasped.  
“Bloody right you should have. “ John replied taking a deep breath. “So is…”  
“Yes, Mr. Holmes is also a dragon.” Mrs. Hudson interjected.  
“Who else knows?” John asked, shifting weight to the other foot. 

“That handsome detective Inspector.” She replied. Sherlock attempted to make a gaging noise, which only resulted in his sneezing so hard that he accidentally spit fire at the carpet. “Oh, poor thing.” She cooed. “Here I brought you some soup to make you feel better.” Sherlock turned his face away.  
“It’s your brother’s recipe for colds. He first gave it to me when you moved in. He said that you were prone to throat trouble.” She said picking up the bowl and spoon, and sitting on the edge of the bed next to the little dragon. Sherlock’s head whipped around to sniff at the liquid, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. He looked up at Mrs. Hudson expectantly.

“That’s what I thought.” She lifted a spoon full of the hot liquid to the dragon’s awaiting lips. His tongue wrapped around the spoon and drew it in between his lips. He let out a low pleased growl.  
“That’s better, isn’t it?” She smiled, drawing the spoon back.  
“What’s in it?” John asked.  
“I have no idea, dear. Mr. Holmes brings me a large batch of it every few months. I believe that it is an old herbal brew, judging by the strong smell of peppermint.” She replied, standing. She held out the bowl and spoon to John. “Why don’t you take care of him while I call Mr. Holmes.” John took them and he was rewarded with a look of impatience from Sherlock. 

“Right.” John said to himself. He took Mrs. Hudson’s place on the bed and dipped the spoon into the bowl.  
“This is the most surreal moment of my life.” John offered the spoon. Sherlock took it with little fuss. “How in the world have you been hiding this?” He asked, continuing to spoon-feed the dragon.  
“Very carefully.” Sherlock answered with a rasped voice. John fed him another spoon full.  
“Pity the only way to get you to eat something, is if you’re sick.” John replied. Sherlock snorted, resulting in a series of violent sneezes. His whole body shook with little tremors afterwards.  
“Sorry.” John winced, giving the dragon a sympathetic look. Sherlock moved closer to John. He cuddled up next to him. He placed his head in the shorter man’s lap. John gave him a small smile. 

*************************************

“My?” Greg knocked on the door of the man’s study.  
“Enter,” came his reply. Greg pushed open the door and stepped inside. Mycroft was typing away on his laptop. “One moment, Gregory.” He didn’t look up when Greg moved to stand in front of his desk.

Greg had never been in this room before; it was part of Mycroft’s private domain. As he looked around he began to notice something about his lover that he had not before. The shelves were filled with very old books, little knick-knacks, and baubles. Greg smiled to himself. It seemed that Mycroft Holmes was a collector. 

“Something amusing?” Mycroft asked, laptop now closed and hands folded on top of it.  
“Never thought you would fall into any stereotype.” Greg chuckled. Mycroft looked at him, perplexed. “You’re a collector.” Greg nodded to the shelves adjacent to the desk.  
“Ah. I have received and given many gifts during my career.” He stood and rounded the desk.  
“You sure that’s all it is?” Greg teased.  
“I assure you that I am not hording a mass of gold and jewels.” Mycroft replied with a smirk.  
“Was that a crack at The Hobbit?” Greg asked. 

“Maybe.” He moved closer into Greg’s space, “Now was there something you needed?” He breathed.  
“Uh…” Greg had suddenly forgotten what it was he came into the office for.  
“Yes?” Mycroft reached for Greg’s hand.  
“I…um…” Greg stammered, breathing heavily.  
“You have a phone in your hand. Something to do with that, perhaps?” Greg looked down at their joined hands.  
“What? Oh, yeah.” He handed Mycroft the phone. “Mrs. Hudson called. Said it was urgent; but not dire.” Greg had started to breath normally. 

“Did she happen to mention what it was concerning this time?” Mycroft asked.  
“Something about an old family recipe.” Mycroft’s eyes widened.  
“What?” Greg asked with concern.  
“I believe my brother may be ill.” Mycroft looked at the phone and began to dial. 

 

PART II 

CHAPTER 1

Greg was working a difficult case and had just gotten a lead. He called Sherlock in for help when suddenly there was a break, and they found the hideout of the killer they had been searching for. When they raided the building they found a young woman who had been recently taken, alive. The killer was nowhere to be found. Greg and the team called for an ambulance. While the EMTs checked her over Greg decided to question her. 

“Miss, do you know who took you?” Greg asked.  
“No, Sir. I am blind as a bat.” Salina replied.  
“Lestrade!” someone yelled.  
“Oi, the freak’s here!” Donavan shouted.  
“Sally, don’t call him that.” Greg sighed.  
“Gram, why did you call me? This isn’t even worth my time, and look you’ve gone and solved it yourself.” Sherlock pouted.

“It’s Greg! And I felt it necessary at the time.” He replied.  
“Well then there is n….” Sherlock was cut off.  
“Lockie?”Salina asked.  
“Who?” John asked.  
“Salina…Wha…How…Here?” Sherlock asked.  
“I…I don’t know.” Salina replied. Sherlock walked to her, pulling out his phone and typing away.  
“Sherlock, what is going on?” John asked, confused. Sherlock ignored him and went back to his phone.  
“Sir, she needs to go to the hospital.” An EMT interrupted.

“Right, Sher…”  
“I’ll be going with her.” Sherlock climbed into the back of the ambulance.  
“What about John?” Greg asked.  
“Taxi.” Sherlock said, closing the door behind him.  
“What? Sherlock!” John shouted.

“It’s alright, you can ride with me. I still have some questions to ask her.” Greg turned to his team and shouted, “Sally, I’m going to the hospital. You’re in charge of my crime scene.”  
“Right you are boss.” She replied.

*************************

“How is she Doctor?” Greg asked.  
“Physically she has just a few cuts, scrapes, and mild malnutrition. Otherwise she has mild Amnesia, probably caused by some kind of mental trauma. Unfortunately there is no telling when or even if her memories will return.” Dr. Smith.  
“Right, thanks.” Greg replied. The doctor nodded and left the room. Greg then turned to Sherlock, “So, are you going to tell me who she is?”  
“’Tis not my place.” Sherlock replied.  
“Then whose place is it?” Greg asked.

“Her father’s. Who should be here right about…”  
“Sherlock! What is going on? Your text was extremely vague.” Mycroft hissed from the doorway.  
“See for yourself, brother mine.” He stepped away from the bed, revealing a sleeping Salina. Mycroft gasped, his ever-blank mask slipping.  
“My?” Greg inquired.  
“Wh…How...” Mycroft struggled for words, before the mask slid back into place once more.  
“She is fine. Minor amnesia.” Sherlock replied.  
“And physically?” Mycroft asked.  
“Malnutrition.” He said flatly.

“Please tell me you’re not her father.” Greg said, looking at Mycroft.  
“If I told you as much, then I would be lying.” Mycroft replied.  
“What the hell, My. We’ve been living together, with my kids, for over six months. Together since…. Well bloody long enough that you should have mentioned this long before now.” Greg said harshly.  
“What!? Since when have the two of you been together?” Sherlock asked, shocked.  
“I’m sorry, Gregory.” Mycroft replied, looking at Sherlock.  
“Why didn’t I notice, I should have deduced that easily.” Sherlock whined, looking from Mycroft to Greg.  
“It was none of your concern, little brother. Though to be perfectly honest, you were rather busy dealing with John and Mary’s marriage problems, to notice.” Mycroft replied.

“But he…oh…god…delete….delete.” Sherlock hissed, grabbing his ears, shaking his head back and forth, and closing his eyes.  
“What is he doing?” Greg asked.  
“Trying to forget the thought of the two of you together,” John replied with a smirk.  
“Lockie…Lockie, what’s going on?” Salina asked sleepily. Sherlock moved back towards her side.  
“Your father is sleeping with my DI.” Sherlock accused.  
“My father?” She asked.  
“You know; tall, mean, fat, and ginger.” Sherlock sneered.

“Sherlock!” John chastised.  
“What? He is.” Sherlock replied.  
“Always with the insults; can the two of you not get along for five minutes, for the sake of this young woman?” Greg asked, gesturing towards Salina. Sherlock and Mycroft looked at each other for a moment before turning their attention towards Salina.  
“How are you feeling?” Mycroft asked quietly.  
“Did you really just ask such a stupid question, Mycroft?” Sherlock asked in disbelief.  
“Its ok, Lockie.” Salina reached a hand out towards the two of them. Mycroft took her offered hand.  
“I am sorry, Salina.” Mycroft squeezed her hand gently.  
“I don’t remember anything….I don’t even remember who I used to be….almost everything is blank. Gone. I….I barely remember my name and the sound of Lockie’s voice. I’m sorry, but I do not remember you.” She replied. Mycroft froze inhaling sharply. He stood completely still, breathing deeply through his nose. 

“Mycroft?” Sherlock waved his hand in front of his brother’s face. Mycroft dropped Salina’s hand and walked to the door. He opened it and walked out, the door closing heavily behind him. “Mycroft!” Sherlock yelled after him. Salina turned her head away and Sherlock could see a single tear roll down her cheek. Sherlock hissed under his breath and rushed out the door after his brother.  
“Sherlock!” John exclaimed, following right behind the man.  
The room was entirely silent except for Salina’s quite weeping. Greg stood there just watching her, not knowing what to do to comfort her. What he did know is that Mycroft and Sherlock needed to talk about the situation; not that it would help any. Both men were as stubborn as could be. Greg moved to sit in the chair positioned next to the bed. 

“Who’s there?” Salina asked quietly.  
“It’s Greg. I’m…”  
“The only one who didn’t leave me?” She turned towards him, her face streaked with tears.  
“I didn’t want to get in the middle of a fight between the Holmes brothers.” Greg joked.  
“I’m sorry.” Salina replied reaching for him, “I…I’m trying to remember, but everything is...”  
“Gone.” Greg finished.  
“Gone.” She confirmed.  
“Well, it will take time but I’m sure that it will come back to you.” Greg took her hand and kissed it gently.

“You said earlier that you have children. Would you tell me about them?” She asked, wiping at her cheeks with the other hand.  
“Stephanie turns sixteen this year and Marcus just turned seventeen last month. Her favorite color is pink, his is green. She likes to read, he likes movies. They both attend that posh private school in central London.” Greg replied thoughtfully.  
“What else?” She asked with anticipation.  
“Stephanie is average height; long brown hair that she keeps braided all the time and brown eyes. Marcus is tall, skinny as a rail, hair dyed black with one of those punk haircuts, and he also has brown eyes.” Greg shook his head at the thought of his son dressed all Goth-like while in attendance at the posh private school Mycroft paid for them to attend.  
“Then I assume that your daughter is sort of preppy. Do they still call it that?” She giggled.  
“If you mean, does she dress in all pink all the time, then I would have to say yes.” Greg laughed.

***

Mycroft!” Sherlock called, stalking down the hall after him.  
The taller man ignored him and kept walking until he reached the elevators. He pressed the button and stood there waiting silently. Sherlock walked up and, grabbing his shoulder, turned his brother to face him.  
“Sher… Ow.” Mycroft was cut short as he was slammed against the wall opposite the elevators.  
“Mycroft Holmes, you cold-hearted bastard! How could you just walk out of that room and leave her to suffer?” Sherlock hissed through clenched teeth, his arm shoved tightly against the elder brother’s windpipe.

“Sherlock!” John exclaimed, “This is a bit not good.” The shorter man tried to insert himself in between the two brothers.  
“Sherlock….” Mycroft gasped standing as still as possible not wanting to incite the younger man into more violence.  
“She was crying, Mycroft. Crying, because she couldn’t remember and because you decided to abandon her. Just like you did when she was a child; leaving her to be raised by your junkie little brother while you worked all hours of the night and day. You are a despicable excuse for a human being.” Sherlock let go of him and Mycroft slid to the floor. He sat there coughing and trying to regain his breath. Sherlock turned to go back to Salina’s room. 

“You’re right.” He whispered in between deep breaths.  
“What?” Sherlock whipped back to face his brother, belstaff coat swirling around him.  
“I said, you are right.” Mycroft looked up at him, his mask no longer in place. Pain evident in his eyes.  
“I don’t understand.” Sherlock replied.  
“I was a terrible father to Salina, and I never should have burdened you with my responsibility.” He moved to stand. 

“We are not talking about making me responsible, Mycroft. We are talking about how you discarded your own daughter without a second thought. How could you do that to her, dump her with me when I was off getting high all the time? Do realize the life I exposed her to?” Sherlock grabbed him by the front of his suit. 

“I….I was unable to….I could not…” He stopped at the murderous look he saw in Sherlock’s eyes.  
“You could not what, Mycroft?” He shook the taller man.  
“I was in pain, Sherlock. Do you have any idea how difficult it was for me to try and raise the child of the man whom I loved and let die? How difficult do you think it was for me to look at her every day after she was born and only see him? She was a constant reminder of him and my shortcomings.” Mycroft pushed Sherlock away from himself. 

“Pain of loss! That’s what you’re blaming this on. James is dead, Mycroft. You had no way of knowing that Snow was going to have him assassinated on the next mission. You both knew the risks of what your jobs entailed.” Sherlock spat, “As for that lame excuse about how she looks and your shortcomings…well I can only say that it is no wonder she hated you as a child. I understand why she decided to move to Moldavia to live with James’s father. It was much easier to get along with a parental figure who didn’t know her than one who couldn’t stand the sight of her.” Sherlock replied.

“I…I never wanted to alienate her.”  
“I also understand why you say caring is not an advantage.” Sherlock stepped back into his brother’s personal space, “You think Greg’s going to hang around after he finds out how you treated her? I don’t believe he will, and then you will be all alone again and don’t think for a minute that I will be there to help.” Sherlock whispered harshly.  
“You know, Mycroft. You could take this whole situation and make it into a second chance.” John interjected. Both brothers turned to look at the shorter man.  
“Second chance, what are you going on about?” Sherlock asked, confused. 

“She has no memory of who Mycroft is, right. So, why not use this opportunity to start again. You can be the supporting father figure in this hard time, and Sherlock can be the doting uncle. Like you both are with Stephanie and Marcus. Both of you will need to work together if she is going to regain any of her memories. Oh, and I would start off by telling her the whole bloody story, too.” John replied. 

“Do you really believe that will work?” Mycroft asked.  
“I think the real question is: do you want it to?” John asked.  
“More than anything,” he replied.  
“Good. Then your first step will be to go back to that room and apologize to your daughter for your sudden departure.” With that, John turned and began walking back down the hall. Mycroft watched him go. 

 

“Do not screw it up this time, Mycroft, or she might just have you executed for treason.” Sherlock whispered.  
“I have no doubt that she would.” He whispered back.

*******************

“Greg, Mycroft wants to speak with you alone. He’s waiting outside.” John said as he and Sherlock re-entered Salina’s room.  
“You will come back, won’t you?” Salina asked, holding firmly to Greg’s hand as he stood.  
“I promise.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles. He then walked towards the door, opening it, and proceeding out into the hallway. “My?” He closed the door behind him as he called to his lover.  
“Here, Gregory.” Mycroft sat across the hall in a small private waiting area. Greg walked over and sat down next to him.  
“Are you going to explain to me just what the hell is going on?” Greg asked, covering the man’s hand with his own.  
“Yes.” He replied, pulling his hand away.

“So, you have a daughter.” Greg didn’t look at him.  
“Yes.”  
“Is that all you are going to say, because if it is then this conversation is over.” Greg began to stand when a hand shot out and grabbed his forearm.  
“Please. Just give me a moment to collect my thoughts.” The hand holding Greg’s arm let go and he sat back down.  
“All right.” Greg sat quietly and waited for Mycroft to speak.  
“Do you recall the story I told you when we first began our relationship?” He asked.  
“Yes.” 

“He and I were….You are aware that I cannot reveal to you any details of what my job is.” Greg nodded, “We were engaged when…” Greg cut him off.  
“How could you have been engaged if gay marriage has only just become legal in the U.K.?” He asked.  
“By vampire law it does not matter what your sexual orientation is, marriage is marriage. He was their prince, what were the council members going to say? No.” Mycroft brought a hand up to stop him from asking any further questions, “Now, as I was saying; he and I were engaged when I found out I was carrying his child. We were…”

“You were what? How…. That’s…”Greg looked at him with confusion.  
“I am a dragon, Gregory. Did they not teach you in school that our race is able to have children no matter our gender? Our biology makes us special in this way.” He locked eyes with the man.  
“Is that why whenever we….You know…You always insist on my using a condom?” Greg asked.  
“It is. I am sorry, but I could not put myself through that again.”  
“Pregnancy?”  
“No. Losing the father of my child.” Mycroft stood and turned away.  
“Losing….what really happened to James?” Greg stood behind him.  
“I’m afraid….He was assassinated whilst on a mission for MI-6. He was ambushed by Mr. Snow’s men and there was nothing I could do to help him. I watched as they…murdered the only man I had ever loved. And in my grief I pushed away the only person who could heal my heart.” Mycroft choked out the last words. 

“You mean Salina?” Greg placed a hand on the taller man’s shoulder.  
“Yes. I threw myself into my work and left her in Sherlock’s care. Unbeknownst to me at the time, he was experimenting heavily with drugs. By the time I became aware of that little fact, I had managed to alienate my own daughter and earned her utmost hatred. She was ten when she informed me that she would be leaving to live with James’s father. I did not stop her.” Mycroft stood silently in place.  
“Wow. That’s one hell of a story….If you were such a terrible father to her then tell me something. Why are you so good with Stephanie and Marcus?” Greg asked.  
“I…I believe it is because I knew the mistakes I had made with my own child, and wished desperately not to repeat those mistakes.”

“Who is Mr. Snow?” Greg let his hand fall from Mycroft’s shoulder as the man turned around swiftly to face him.  
“Of everything I have just told you, that’s the part you wish to focus on?” he asked, eyes wide.  
“Yep. Now care to tell me who the bastard is?” Greg crossed his arms.  
“He is an ancient who wishes for vampires to enslave all humans and shifters, taking their place as rulers of the world.” 

“So he’s a maniac who’s been alive just long enough for the immortality to go to his head.” Greg confirmed.  
“In a manner of speaking, yes. He believes that if he kills the royal family it will enable him to have total control over all vampires—and that they will follow him without question.”  
“You once said you were the most dangerous man I would ever meet, were you lying?” Greg asked, taking Mycroft into his arms.  
“No.” He did not elaborate but Greg could tell that he was not telling him everything.

 

CHAPTER 2

“Are we really going to have a step-sister?” Stephanie asked, jumping up and down with excitement.  
“Technically yes, but I would not get too attached. She may not want to stay when her memory returns.” Greg replied.  
“When is she coming home?” Stephanie asked.  
“Soon as the doctors say she has recovered from the malnutrition.” He said, picking at his dinner.  
“I wouldn’t think a vampire could suffer from that particular ailment.” Marcus commented.  
“Come to find out it is worse. If deprived of blood for too long, a vampire could go mad.” Sherlock supplied, taking a drink of his wine.  
“Do you think that’s why she got amnesia?” Stephanie asked. 

“No.” John said bluntly, “the doctors seem to think that it was something that happened to her while she was being held captive.” He explained.  
“Is this really an appropriate conversation for the dinner table?” Mycroft asked, pushing away his plate.  
“Well you did stop eating, so I believe my mission has been accomplished.” Sherlock smirked.  
“Congratulations on reaching such a minimal goal in life, little brother.” Mycroft stood and walked towards the kitchen, plate in hand.  
“Thank you, Sherlock. Now it will take me a week to get him back on a regular eating schedule. It’s not enough that he isn’t sleeping because of what is going on, but you have to continue with the fat jokes.” Greg stood to go after his lover.  
“I never mentioned the word fat, did I?” Sherlock looked at John, who only sat shaking his head in disappointment. He sighed, standing and brushed past Greg and into the kitchen to inquire about Mycroft’s health. 

When Sherlock entered the kitchen it was empty. Curiosity getting the best of him, Sherlock walked through the kitchen and out the other door. He made his way through the hallway leading from the entry way of the house, to the indoor pool room at the back of the house. He found the elder Holmes sitting in one of the patio chairs, a cigarette in one hand, and a glass of wine in the other. His eyes were closed and he had a look of concentration on his face.  
“May I join you?” The younger Holmes asked.  
“If you must.” The elder replied.  
“Greg said that you are not sleeping or eating. Care to tell me why?” Sherlock reached out and grabbed a cigarette out of the box sitting on the table; when he reached for the lighter a hand grabbed his.  
“Care to tell me where Salina picked up the habit of smoking?” Mycroft asked.  
“Deflection. Excellent try, Mycroft, but it’s not going to work. Answer the question?” The hand on top of his let go. Sherlock took the lighter and lit up.  
“I told Salina everything, just like John suggested. She has refused to talk to me since. What am I to deduce from that, other than she remembers, or she hates me without the memories?” He tilted his head back and let out a puff of smoke. 

“John and I talked to her this afternoon. She seemed to be in good spirits. She also talks to Greg, which is a positive sign for you considering he is going to be her step-father.” Sherlock inhaled with a look of pure pleasure on his face. “And to answer your question, I taught her to smoke. Just to spite you for leaving me to look after your child. I promise that is all she learned from me.”

 

“I beg to differ. She has more of your personality that she will ever have of her parents.” Mycroft smiled, “She learned how to be a petulant child, just like you. Though, she did not catch onto your sociopathic tendencies, for which I am extremely grateful.”  
“Are you entirely sure about that?” A wide smile spread over Sherlock’s face.  
“Quite.” The elder Holmes smiled back.

*****************

One week later, Greg and John sat in the private waiting room at the hospital. John had just returned from checking on Salina.  
“The nurse said that they were going to release her today. Where’s Mycroft?” John asked.  
“I don’t know. Probably with Sherlock, since they’re both missing.” Greg replied.  
“Yeah. Those two have been very chummy lately.” John sat down across from Greg.  
“I think Sherlock is trying to keep My from wasting away. I don’t think he has slept a single hour since this whole thing started.” Greg ran his hands over his face. Between work, looking after the two brothers, and checking on Salina every day, Greg was exhausted.  
“Salina wanted to talk to you. I think she may be ready to forgive Mycroft.”  
“Right. I’ll just check on her then, shall I?” Greg stood and walked towards the hospital room. 

When he entered, he found a man leaning over Salina with a syringe. Instead of putting it into her IV, he was moving to inject her in the neck. “Hey, what are you doing?” Greg rushed the man, knocking him backwards, the syringe flying across the room to skitter to the far side of the floor. He grappled with the man before managing to get a swing in. By this time, Salina had woken up and let out a piercing scream, catching Greg off guard and enabling the unknown man to knock Greg out with one swing of his fist. He then scrambled to the other side of the room for the syringe. The door swung open violently as john entered, gun drawn. 

“What the bloody hell is going on?” He yelled, looking from Greg to the other man, who turned around, syringe in hand. The man hissed, showing his fangs to John before lunging. John fired a shot, but the man kept coming at him.  
“Mr. Watson, what do you think you are do….” The nurse screeched as she came running for the door. She was grabbed from behind by two other men. One sank his fangs into her neck and the other moved towards John, who moved to the left, insuring that the two vampires would run into each other. He then ran towards Salina, unhooking her from the wires and IV.  
“John, what’s happening? What’s going on? Where is Greg?” Salina asked as she was being lifted from the bed. 

“He’s right here. The vampires knocked him uncon—”  
“I’m fine; John, just get her out of here.” Greg groaned as he pushed himself off the floor. John turned to find that they were faced with three hissing vampires blocking the door. “Go! Get out of here!” Greg yelled, placing himself between John and the vampire assassins.  
“Just where the hell am I supposed to go, Greg!?” John yelled, holding tightly to Salina.  
“The window, John!” Greg yelled as one of the vampires rushed forward. John shot at the window, breaking the glass. The two of them rushed for the window, glass cutting the bottom of Salinas’s feet.  
“Salina, I need you to help me. I know you’re afraid, but you’re going to have to transform.” John helped her climb out the window and onto the ledge outside.  
“Transform? You want me to fly?” Salina shrieked, thanking and cursing her blindness. 

“Yes! No. I don’t know.” John replied, flustered as they shuffled along the ledge. Just then his phone rang. “Hello, Mycroft! Jesus Christ! Yes, there are three of them after us. Greg’s fighting them off. We’re sitting ducks out here on the ledge of this building.”  
“What are you doing on the ledge of the building?” Mycroft asked sternly.  
“Where the hell else were we supposed to go with three vampires blocking the damn door?” John hissed.

“Tell her to transform. The two of you will be able to fly away if you can guide her. I will send Sherlock to intercept you. I already have a team on their way to the Hospital.”  
“Alright. Fine.” John hung up and pocketed his phone. “Salina, Mycroft says you have to transform and fly. I’m going to try and guide you until Sherlock can get to us.” He said, holding her hand.  
“I can’t. I’m blind.” Salina replied.  
“You can, I know you can. Please, our lives depend on it.” John squeezed her hand harder. Salina closed her eyes, and slowly her skin changed from a pale white to deep cobalt blue scales. Her gown dropped from her frame as wings emerged from behind her. Her hands and feet grew into claws and her spine elongated to form a tail. Fully transformed, she was now three times her human size. “John, hop on my back and hold tightly around my neck.” She turned from him as she said this. John did as she said and soon they were in a freefall from the sixth floor of the building. 

“Blooodddyyy heeellll!” John screamed. “Up, you have to fly up!” John pulled on her neck. She let out a shrill, inhuman cry as she unfolded her wings. It was jolting as they stopped descending and leveled off. She began flapping her wings.  
“Which way? I cannot see where I am going.” She cried.  
“Straight, just keep flying straight until I tell you not to.” John replied, holding her tighter around the neck. She followed John’s instructions for a few miles until they heard a familiar voice call to them.  
“John, Salina, I’m coming up on your right. Do not be alarmed.” Sherlock came up alongside of them in his dragon form. His scales were all black and his form made up of almost entirely muscles. “Salina, can you feel the current of air that my wings are creating?”  
“Yes.” She replied.

“Follow the feel of that current and you will be fine. I’m going to fly in front of you.” Sherlock informed.  
“Alright.” They flew for another thirty minutes to Mycroft’s flat. Sherlock guided her through the landing.  
Mycroft was waiting for them. He held two large fluffy robes in his arms. After John climbed off Salina’s back, she collapsed to the ground and shed her dragon form. Mycroft moved to help her, dropping the robes. John looked towards Sherlock when he realized that the man was completely nude and bending to collect the robes. Sherlock slipped the blue one on and tied it closed. He then turned to help Mycroft dress Salina in the other robe. When it was tied shut, the two of them helped Salina into the flat and John followed. He locked the door behind him. 

“Did Greg make it out?” John asked.  
“Yes, he is in a car on the way here as we speak. The vampire assassins that ambushed you at the hospital were taken care of.” Mycroft replied as he and Sherlock lowered Salina to the sofa.  
“Is that Holmes-speak for ‘we didn’t kill them, but they are in a secure government compound being questioned as we speak’?” John asked. Sherlock let out a snort.  
“Only one survived long enough to tell us who they were working for and some other vital information.” Mycroft replied.

 

“M. is everything alright?” Stephanie asked from the top of the stairs.  
“Everything is fine. If you could do me the favor of retrieving the tea I have prepared from the kitchen, I would deeply appreciate it.” He replied, checking Salina for injury.  
“Ok.” She skipped down the stairs and off into the kitchen.  
“What happened to your feet?” Mycroft asked, looking towards John for an answer.  
“Greg told me to shoot the window!” John exclaimed at Mycroft’s scowl. They looked towards the door as a key could be heard in the lock.  
“I told you to use the window to escape, not shoot it and drag her through.” Greg said as he closed the door behind him. 

“God, Gram, you look terrible.” Sherlock commented as he went to retrieve the first aid kit.  
“You’re lucky I’m dead tired, mate, or I would be punching you in the face right now.” Greg walked over and sat on the sofa next to Salina. He looked at Mycroft, who gave him a weak smile as Salina leaned into Greg’s side, resting her head on his shoulder. “I don’t know if I should be impressed or proud that you were able to fly blind with John on your back.” Greg leaned over and kissed her forehead.  
“Tea’s ready.” Stephanie walked into the room and placed the tea tray on the table in front of the sofa.  
“Thanks, but I think I’d rather have…” He stopped and looked at Stephanie as she handed him a cold beer.  
“You’re welcome. And here is an ice pack for her head, if you need it.”  
“Very generous of you, Stephanie.” Mycroft replied.

“By the way, where is Goth boy?” Sherlock returned with the first aid kit and knelt on the floor next to the elder Holmes, who stood and seated himself on the other side of his daughter.  
“He said he was staying over at Stephan’s to study for final examinations.” Stephanie said, pouring out the tea.  
“I regret to inform you that what he told you is a lie.” Mycroft accepted the offered teacup.  
“Yeah, well we kind of all knew that, didn’t we.” Sherlock began taking care of Salina’s feet.  
“Sherlock.” John warned. 

“Please, is there any other reason that the two of them spend so much time together other than the fact that they are secretly in a relationship together?” Sherlock asked in a mocking tone.  
“Be that as it may, Sherlock, could we please leave this discussion until the morning?” Mycroft requested.  
“Fine.” He finished with Salina’s feet and stood.  
“Right, I’m beat. I think I’m going to head to sleep.” Greg went to get up; he realized that Salina had fallen asleep next to him. He smiled and gently removed her from his person. He then scooped her up into his arms. 

“I’ll show you to her room.” Mycroft set his cup aside and stood. Greg followed him down the hall next to the stairs. He opened a door to their right, inside was a sparsely furnished bedroom. Greg set her down onto the bed gently. Behind them, John and Sherlock entered. “Dr. Watson, if you would.” Mycroft gestured for him to come forward. Sherlock handed John a large black bag. He set it down on the bed and opened it. He pulled out a bag of IV fluid and a bag of blood. He hooked them onto the medical pole next to the bed, attached the lines, and then set about the task of putting in a new IV.

 

“All set. She should be good for a couple of hours.” John said, closing up the bag again and setting it on the small bedside table.  
“I will stay with her; I’ve been sleeping since I got home from school.” Stephanie volunteered from the doorway.  
“Only if you feel up to it.” Greg said.  
“I’m good, since tomorrow is Saturday you don’t need to worry about school.” She walked farther into the room and sat on the bed, careful not to disturb its occupant. Sherlock and John walked towards the door.

“Alright, but if you need anything let us know right away.” He said, pulling her into a hug.  
“I will. Go get some sleep, the lot of you. I feel like I’m looking at a bunch of zombies.” She giggled.  
“Someone has watched too much television.” Sherlock scoffed.  
“Sherlock, you know where the other guest room is; please do us all a favor and make good use of it.” Mycroft said, patting his little brother’s shoulder on his way out of the room, Greg following behind him. They shut the door quietly and walked back down the hall.  
“You should get some sleep as well, brother mine. You look like death warmed over.” Sherlock sneered.  
“Pot, kettle, little brother.” Mycroft replied, ascending the stairs, “Gregory, if you would join me I would very much appreciate it.” Without another word he continued towards The Master bedroom. 

 

CHAPTER 3

 

It was early morning when there was a loud pounding noise at the front door. Greg woke with a start.  
“My, there’s someone at the front door.” Greg threw the blankets off and scrambled around on the floor for his clothes, Mycroft did the same. Greg grabbed his gun from the bedside table and exited the bedroom. Mycroft swiftly followed. They crept slowly down the stairs. Sherlock and John came rushing out of the guest room. John had his gun drawn.  
“What’s that racket?” Sherlock whispered.  
“Don’t know.” Greg replied as they reached the first floor.  
“DAAAADDD!” The pounding increased.  
“It’s Marcus!” Greg ran for the door.  
“Greg, wait. We don’t know if there’s anyone else out there with him. He could be held up by the assassins.” John called after him. Greg stopped at the door.

“Marcus, are you alone?” Greg asked.  
“What a dumb question. Like he is really going to answer that….” Sherlock began before John slapped a hand over the man’s mouth.  
“It’s just me and Stephan. He’s been shot. His dad was drunk and…” Greg hurriedly unlocked the door and pulled the two teens inside. The door was slammed shut and locked behind them.  
“What happened?” Greg asked as the two boys made their way to the living room sofa. 

“His dad came home early from his business trip. We were curled up on the sofa together asleep, when he started yelling and screaming about us being a couple of queers. He grabbed Stephan and started shaking him. I tried to make him let go but he pushed me off into the brick of the fireplace. He then pulled a gun and shoved Stephan to the ground before he shot him. The commotion woke his mom and she wrestled the gun from his dad before pulling it on him. She told us to leave as she was calling 999. I decided it would be safer to come back here.” Marcus babbled. 

“He did what!” Greg moved to check Stephan over, “We should get him to a hospital.”  
“No.” Mycroft pulled out his phone and began typing away.  
“He needs a doctor, Mycroft!” John yelled.  
“Indeed, Dr. Watson that is what I am working on. It would not do to have the son of a prominent politician end up in the hospital with a gunshot wound.”  
“That’s what you’re worried about, the man’s reputation?” John accused.  
“We came here because we were worried about the men that my father has been working with. We were being followed.” Stephan replied. 

“What exactly does your father do?” Greg asked.  
“He’s….ah…business man.” Stephan winced as he spoke.  
“Mr. Marceletti is a well-connected politician with ties to the mob.” Mycroft replied.  
“Jesus, Mycroft. The mob.” John cried.  
“Yes, John.” He answered, “There is a doctor on his way.” He pocketed his phone.  
“Thank you Mr. Holmes.” Stephan hissed with pain as he shifted again. John moved Greg out of the way and covered the teen’s wound with the tea towel from the table next to the sofa. Mycroft made a sound of protest but did not stop him. Greg grabbed Marcus’s arm and dragged him towards the Dining room. Mycroft followed, leaving John and Sherlock to tend to the other teen.

 

“Dad!” Marcus exclaimed.  
“What were you thinking, getting involved with that boy?” Greg asked, sitting the two of them down at the table.  
“That’s exactly what his father asked.” Marcus looked anywhere but at Greg.  
“I….I’m sorry….I was just so…. worried. I….I didn’t mean that I wasn’t ok with you and him. I…oh hell. I only meant his father…. He’s obviously into some bad stuff.” Greg struggled for words before deciding to take his son in his arms. He hugged the teen tightly.  
“I had no idea that he was into that stuff. I knew that he didn’t like the idea of his son being gay, but I never imagined that he would actually shoot him. I also knew that….” He stopped biting his lip. Greg pulled back to look him in the eyes.

“What….you also knew what?” Greg asked as Mycroft sat down across from the two. Marcus looked at Greg with fear.  
“He…He was beating on Stephan. Had been for some time.” The teen answered quietly.  
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Greg asked.  
“He begged me not to. I wanted to tell you so many times, but I couldn’t bring myself to betray his trust. He must have come to school with bruises a thousand times and every time I begged him to tell you, to let me tell you.” Tears began rolling down his face.  
“It’s not your fault, Marcus. I wish you would have told me.” Greg lifted his hand to wipe at the tears.

“We will no longer have to worry about Mr. Marceletti. It has been taken care of, he has been arrested and you have my personal assurance that he is gone from our lives forever.” Mycroft said, placing his phone on the table in front of him.  
“Mycroft! The doctor is here.” Sherlock called from the living room. Mycroft stood and made his way to the living room. When he entered, he found an elderly man in a tux accompanied by a young woman in a white lab coat.  
“Ah, Mr. Holmes I’m afraid that we will need to move the boy to a more solid surface, if I am to remove the bullet without causing more injury.” The elderly man was checking underneath the blood-soaked tea towels. “Dr. Watson, I may require some assistance.”  
“Right.” John replied. 

“Mr. Holmes the younger, if you will please help move the young man to…” He looked to Mycroft.  
“The dining room table.” He motioned with his hand. Sherlock and John grabbed under each of Stephan’s arms to help him to stand.  
“Careful now, boys.” The man said, following them into the dining room. Greg and Marcus stood away from the table as John and Sherlock eased Stephan onto it. They then proceeded to move all the chairs out of the way. The doctor shed his jacket and tie, before rolling up his sleeves.

“Greg, we should let the doctors do their work.” Mycroft nodded towards Marcus.  
“Right. Come on Marcus; let’s wait in the living room.” He put an arm around his son’s shoulders,  
“Sherlock, you coming?” Greg asked.  
“Why?” His question earned him a smack on the arm from John, who gave him a stern look. “Oh, alright.” Sherlock grumbled.

“Mr. Holmes. The good Dr. Watson and I have everything under control; the boy is in good hands.” Mycroft nodded and left the room. He passed through the living room and up the stairs to The Master bedroom. He pulled out his phone and started typing away. When he was done sending the message to his assistant, he sat on the bed and placed the phone aside. He let out a heavy sigh and covered his face with his hands as he lay back on the bed. The phone rang and Mycroft grabbed it without hesitating.  
“Holmes.” He answered shortly.  
“Mr. Marceletti was being transferred from NSY to our custody when he was shot by an unknown assailant. He is dead, Sir. His wife is in NSY custody. They believe that she is the one who had him killed; she excused herself to make a phone call while they were processing the crime scene at the Marceletti home.” Anthea explained. 

“What will happen to the Mrs.?” Mycroft asked, closing his eyes.  
“We are working on the transfer paperwork now. If she is lucky she will live through the night.”  
“Has there been some kind of threat made against her life?” Mycroft knew it was an obvious question.  
“Sir, you are aware of the family’s connection to the mob. We believe that they will make an attempt on her life to keep her quiet about her husband’s business dealings. We have also put a hold on the press release for the circumstances of Mr. Marceletti’s death.” She replied.  
“Very well, let’s try and keep as much information as we can out of the press. Also, I need you to clear my schedule for the next few weeks. I do not want any calls for anything less than a critical class 9. And I am going to need two non-government issued cars along with two of the usual cars you send.” Mycroft sat up and opened his eyes to find Greg standing in the doorway. 

“Will you be needing them right away, Sir?” Anthea asked.  
“The end of the week. We will be leaving London to spend a few days at the cottage; I think we have all earned a vacation to get some well-earned rest.” Mycroft locked eyes with Greg.  
“Shall I have DI Lestrade’s schedule cleared as well?” She inquired.  
“If you could. Thank you, Anthea.” He hung up the phone and set it aside. Greg closed the door and moved to stand in front of the weary man. Mycroft leaned into him, his head resting against Greg’s stomach. “Gregory.”

“Yes My.” He wrapped his arms around the man.  
“What is happening to us?” Mycroft snuggled closer.  
“We’re going to be fine, My.” Greg bent to kiss the top of his head.  
“Everything is falling apart and I have no idea how to fix any of it.”  
“We will do it together. Sherlock and John will help us and everything is going to be ok. You can’t control everything, My. No matter how much you may think you can, you are only….Well I was going to say human, but…” Mycroft let out a short laugh.  
“Thank you, Gregory.” Mycroft looked up at him.  
“You’re welcome, love.” He bent over further and placed a kiss on his lips, “When we go back downstairs I’ll check on Marcus, while you pop off and check on Salina.”

 

CHAPTER 4

The next few days were very hectic for Mycroft. He had been at work since the day after the incident with Stephan’s father. He had spent a great deal of his time censoring the press and doing paperwork. He had also spent much of his time speaking with Mrs. Marceletti, who had indeed hired a man to kill her husband. It turned out she had been in correspondence with the mob. 

She had been informed that her husband was skimming money off of their profits; if she wanted her family to stay alive she would pay all of the money back. She did give them back all of what money she could find and proceeded to ask them to “whack” her husband. They agreed to, if it bought her silence in regards to all of her husband’s business affairs. No matter what threats Mycroft came up with she would not divulge any information about the family’s business with the mob. Not that he believed she would.

Mycroft had no choice but to send her to prison for hiring someone to kill her husband, but everyone knew those charges would not stick. Unfortunately the money laundering and conspiracy charges would. Mrs. Marceletti requested that all of her and the late Mr. Marceletti’s lands, titles, and money be transferred into her son’s name immediately. Mycroft complied because he didn’t feel that the young man should be punished for his parents’ mistakes. When everything was said and done, Mycroft was able to leave instructions for Anthea and return home.

***************************************************

When Mycroft arrived home he found the house strangely quiet. He deposited his umbrella in the stand next to the coat rack. He then proceeded to walk through the house, each room as empty as the last. He pulled out his phone and was about to call Gregory when he heard giggling coming from the pool room. 

He put his phone back in his pocket and walked in the direction of the sound. When he entered the pool room he was greeted with the sight of Greg, Sherlock, John, and the three teens splashing around in the pool, while Stephan sat in one of the patio chairs. Salina was in small dragon form and floating on a lounger, flicking at the water with her tail. 

“My! Thank god you’re home.” Greg swam towards the edge of the pool, hoisted himself out, and made his way towards the man. “Sherlock has been driving me mad.” When close enough he grasped Mycroft by the back of the neck and pulled him into a searing kiss.  
“Oh. God. My eyes. “ Sherlock screeched.  
“Oh, shut up you.” John sent water splashing up into Sherlock’s face.  
“So, when are you taking us away from here?” Greg asked, pulling away from the taller man and resting their foreheads together. 

“Soon….tomorrow. Anthea will send two cars and we will all retire to the cottage for the summer.” Mycroft replied.  
“Hey…. Love birds, you going to stand there and snog all day?” Sherlock asked.  
“Sherlock, do me a favor?” Mycroft smiled.  
“What?” The younger Holmes shot back.

 

“Please drown yourself, brother mine.” Mycroft turned on his heel, Greg in tow, and hastily rushed from the room.  
“God….You’re really going to do that now….in the middle of the day?” Sherlock yelled after them. He was then hit in the head with a beach ball. “Ow, who threw that?” Sherlock looked around furiously.  
“Come on, Sherlock. Let them alone and play with me.” Stephanie giggled, another beach ball in hand.

****************************************

The next morning Greg woke the teens at 5am. He prepared breakfast, coffee, and set the table. Mycroft gave him a quick kiss and took the offered coffee before sitting down at the table to read the morning newspaper. Sherlock and John were engaged in conversation with the two teen boys while Salina was talking quietly with Stephanie. 

Greg smiled at the sight as he walked into the dining room with breakfast. Mycroft put the paper aside as Greg placed a plate in front of him. Greg bestowed a kiss on his cheek before delivering the rest of breakfast. He then took his seat between Mycroft and Marcus. 

When they were done eating, there was a knock at the front door. Mycroft put up a hand to inform everyone to stay seated. He walked through the house to the door. When he opened it, Anthea was standing there with an envelope in her outstretched hand and typing on her phone with the other. Behind her he could see the two cars he had requested. 

“This is for Dr. Watson, Sir.” She said as her boss took the envelope. “He needs to sign those papers immediately, if he wants this matter taken care of.”  
“Of course. If you would wait in the living room.” Mycroft invited her in and closed the door behind her. She nodded, continuing to type away. Mycroft proceeded into the dining room. He set the envelope in front of John and sat back down. “When you are finished signing those divorce papers, John, please return them to Anthea. She is waiting in the living room.” John looked at him in shock.  
“Divorce papers?” He opened the envelope and took out the papers. He scanned them, Sherlock reading over his shoulder, before looking back at Mycroft. “Really? She’s going to give me custody of our daughter? She’s giving me everything?” He couldn’t believe it.

“She decided trying to fight it wasn’t worth her life.” Mycroft took a sip of his coffee.  
“What do you mean her life?” John asked.  
“You may have thought that the information she gave to you on that USB was destroyed, but I regret to inform you that it was not done before we had a chance to read it. You can thank Sherlock for that.” He placed his cup back on the table.  
“What was so important that you had to hand it over to your brother, Sherlock?” John turned to look at the man sitting next to him. Greg knew this was the beginning of a very awkward conversation.  
“Kids, why don’t you go and finish packing?” He suggested. Chairs slid across the wood floor as they stood and left the room. Greg cleared the plates and went into the kitchen.

“When she went freelance, she did some work for Moriarty.” Mycroft replied, looking down at the table.  
“What?” John hissed.  
“She betrayed her country, her friends, and us, John.” Sherlock whispered quietly.  
“She couldn’t have known who he was or what he was doing.” John knew he was only fooling himself with that statement.

“She was completely aware of whom she was working for and the consequences of doing so. She was in the business of finding out people’s dirty little secrets and selling them to the highest bidder. In this case that happened to be Moriarty. The information she provided him with was classified information regarding many of MI-5 and MI-6’s top secret operations. She is lucky that she has not been executed already.” Mycroft explained. 

“Executed!” John exclaimed, standing. His chair fell backwards, making a loud cracking noise when it hit the floor.  
“According to our laws, she is a traitor to her country. The penalty for which, is death. I negotiated with MI-5 and MI-6 to let her live if she agreed to give us every detail of her dealings with Moriarty and other known security threats.” Mycroft stood, “I also negotiated your divorce. You will have custody of your daughter and it will appear as if she has simply run off.”  
“What if I decide not to sign?” John asked, his chest rising and falling faster with each breath.  
“You will receive custody regardless, but you will remain married to a known traitor for the rest of your life.” He grabbed his coffee cup off the table and strode towards the kitchen.  
“You’re going to leak it to the papers then, is that what you’re saying?” John tried to control his rising anger.

“No, the information with remain private, but you will never be able to marry anyone else, whomever they may be.” He disappeared from the room.  
“This is…this is bloody ridiculous is what this is.” John said, looking to Sherlock.  
“Do you not want custody of your daughter, John?” Sherlock asked.  
“Of course I do. That’s hardly the question.” John retrieved his chair from the floor and sat back down, staring at the papers on the table. “I’ll never be able to tell her about her mum. She will ask, you know. Kids always ask, and in a situation like this…What do I do Sherlock?” John asked.  
“Sign the papers.” He replied flatly.

“And?”  
“And, you can tell her that her mum died or something.” Sherlock looked at John like he was asking the stupidest question he had ever heard.  
“Right.” John didn’t sound convinced as he shuffled through the pages to the ones he needed to sign. Sherlock handed him a pen. “It’s going to be like she never existed, like we were never in love.” John signed the papers furiously and placed them back in the envelope. He stood without a word and left the room to hand them back to Anthea. Sherlock sat at the table quietly. He steepled his hands in front of his face with eyes closed in the customary thinking pose. Mycroft came back into the room.

“He’s angry.”  
“An obvious statement, brother mine.” Sherlock snorted.  
“He will be safe.”  
“But not happy.” Sherlock opened his eyes.  
“Only time will tell, little brother. The two of you should go with Gregory in one car and I shall take the children in the other. A little space…” He sat down next to the younger Holmes.  
“You’re only saying that because you don’t want him to shoot you.” Sherlock sneered.  
“No. I am suggesting this, because I believe it will give me quality time with all of my children.”  
“All of your children. God, Mycroft what are you going on about?” Sherlock dropped his hands to look at his brother quizzically.

 

“Stephan’s mother has asked me to watch over him. Yes, technically by law he is an adult, but he is not yet ready to take on the responsibility of all that money.”  
“So, she made you the trust fund brigade, did she?” Sherlock leaned back in his chair.  
“I am only holding it for him until he is out of University or twenty-five. Whichever comes first.” Mycroft replied.

“Great. So now you have another teenager to look after. What’s next, Mycroft, going to adopt an orphanage?” Sherlock looked away in disgust.  
“No. I was not expecting a household of teenagers, Sherlock. Do you want me to turn Stephan out on the streets, or do you want to take him back to Baker Street?” Mycroft scoffed.  
“You’re trying to make up for Salina and it’s not going to work. You’ve lived by yourself for too long, and eventually the amount of people hanging around your flat is bound to drive you to madness.” Sherlock sneered.

“You underestimate my annoyance threshold.”  
“Really. Well then, I shall have to put in extra time and effort whilst at the cottage.” Sherlock smiled deviously.  
“Honestly, Sherlock. Can you not behave for….”  
“Mycroft, if you cannot take a joke like that then you’re going to have a hell of a time with a house full of teenagers.” Sherlock laughed.  
“After dealing with a child for the last twenty-five years I believe that I can handle a house full of teenagers with no problem.” Mycroft replied with a short laugh. Sherlock stuck out his tongue. “Thank you for making my point, little brother.” He reached for Sherlock and placed a hand on his shoulder as he stood. Sherlock slapped his hand away playfully.

********************************************

“Do you all have everything you need?” Greg asked, piling luggage into the boot of the car.  
“I think that’s everything.” John replied, as he hoisted his and Sherlock’s suitcase into the other car’s boot. Sherlock came running down the front steps, a large duffle bag in hand. Mycroft was last out the door, locking it behind him.  
“What about Stephan?” Marcus asked as he got in the car with his sister.  
“Anthea should be returning with him soon. He wanted to go home and grab some things before we left.” Greg replied. 

“Greg, would you mind driving Sherlock and John? I would like to spend some time with the children.” He held out his set of keys.  
“Sure.” Greg took the offered keys and held out his own.  
“M, were not kids. We’re all adults, yah know.” Stephanie giggled from the backseat of the first car.  
“Keep talking like that and no one will be convinced of that fact, Steph.” Marcus chided. Stephanie just laughed. 

“My, Anthea’s back.” Greg nodded his head in the direction of the sleek black car that pulled up in the drive. The back door opened and Mycroft’s assistant stepped out, followed by Stephan. Stephan moved to the back of the car and the boot opened. He pulled out a large maroon suitcase, and set it on the ground. Anthea closed the boot and climbed back into the car. The car then backed out of the drive and took off. 

“Sorry I’m late; had to grab some stuff.” Greg walked over and took the suitcase from him.  
“You really shouldn’t be lifting anything.” Greg said, as he placed the case in the boot of the first car and closed it. 

“I know, but I don’t like feeling helpless.” He replied, as Marcus got out of the first car and moved to hold the other boy.  
“If you keep this up, you’re going to injure yourself.” Marcus hugged Stephan around the middle and pulled him towards the back seat of the first car. Stephanie slid all the way over to make room for the two boys. Greg closed the door behind them and walked back to Mycroft’s side.  
“We should get going if we want to make it by dinner time.” Mycroft whispered in his ear. They parted and walked to each of the cars.

**********************************************

"Airport? Why are we at the airport?" Sherlock asked, looking out the window at the private jet on the tarmac.  
"It's all part of the plan, Sherlock." Greg replied.  
"What are you talking about, Grahm?" Sherlock asked as they climbed out of the car.  
"I thought we were going to the cottage?" John asked, as Greg walked around them to the boot of the car.  
"We are, I just never specified which cottage." Greg replied, lifting their suitcases out and setting them on the ground.

"So where are we going, then?" Sherlock asked, picked up his duffle bag and suitcases.  
"I’m not entirely sure. Once we’re in the air, I’m sure My will tell us."  
"You mean that you don’t even know where we’re going?" John asked, shocked.  
"Of course, we are being monitored. Why didn’t this occur to me earlier?" Sherlock whined.  
"You weren't paying attention, brother dear." Mycroft had exited his own car and was opening the boot to retrieve luggage. 

"So if we’re not going to the cottage, where are we going, Mycroft?" John asked as he took his luggage from Greg.  
"Think of it as a surprise." Mycroft replied. Stephanie, Marcus, and Stephan clambered out of the back seat. The boys moved to the rear of the car while Stephanie helped Salina out of the front seat of the car.  
“You’re being very cryptic, and I don’t like it.” Sherlock replied.  
“Have you known him to be anything else?” John asked, elbowing Sherlock in the ribs.  
“Come along now. We do not have all day to waste, Sherlock.” Mycroft took ahold of his and Greg’s luggage and ascended the stairs of the private jet. The two teen boys followed with their own suitcases; Marcus helping Stephan up the stairs and Salina aided by Stephanie. The inside of the jet was very spacious with seats made of tan leather. It had more than enough room for everyone to be very comfortable. Once they were up in the air and Sherlock had finished snooping around, Mycroft revealed their destination.

 

“France! Why in the world are we going to France?” Sherlock asked.  
“We are going to the French countryside for a holiday.” Mycroft replied from the seat across from the younger Holmes.  
“Why?” Sherlock tilted his head in confusion. “You don’t know anyone, besides politicians, in France.”  
“My parents! We’re going to visit the farm?” Greg asked excitedly.  
“Indeed. I thought the children might be pleased to spend some time with their grandparents.” Mycroft said with a small smile. 

“Oh, M. That’s so sweet.” Stephanie cooed from the seat behind Sherlock’s.  
“Please kill me now.” Sherlock sighed, looking at John, who was seated on the sofa adjacent to them.  
“It’s ok Lockie, I think you’re sweet.” Salina replied, patting his leg in comfort. John had difficulty suppressing his laughter at the incredulous look on Sherlock’s face. The others in the cabin did not.  
“I hate you all.” He pouted.  
“No you don’t. You love us.” Stephanie laughed.  
“No, I’m quite sure I do.”  
“Sense of humor, brother mine.” Mycroft chided.  
“Oh, shut up.” Sherlock lowered his eyes to the table in front of them. 

 

CHAPTER 5

In a long dark hallway, the hurried clicking of shoes on floor reverberates off the stone of the walls. The young vampire clutched a stack of papers tightly as he rushed to meet his master. He stopped in front of two large doors. He hesitated before entering, nervous that the information he carried would upset his master in the worst of ways. 

He took a deep breath and opened the doors. He held his breath as he stepped in and the doors closed behind him. There was a quiet murmur of voices from across the room. He let out the breath he had been holding, and waited to be acknowledged. After a few minutes of going unnoticed he made a point of clearing his throat to call attention to his presence. The voices stopped. 

“Well?” his master asked in a bored tone.  
“I’ve found her.” The young vampire replied.  
“And?” His master asked expectantly.  
“She…..she’s….in Eng…..land.” He stuttered.  
“England. How appropriate.” He sneered, revealing a smile full of grime-covered teeth.  
“She….”  
“If you’re going to give me a report, do so without stuttering like an imbecile.” His master’s smile faded.  
“Right.” He paused and collected his thoughts. “She made it back to her family.”  
“She made it home to daddy. How sweet.” The smile appeared once again. 

“My sources tell me that she has no memory of what happened while she was in our….while she was your guest. They also tell me that the kidnapping was blamed on a “human”, who was killed in the raid of the warehouse. We have since retrieved the body so it cannot be traced back to us.” He elaborated. 

“And what has become of my agent who was supposed to be looking after her?” He asked.  
“We haven’t heard anything from him since the week before the raid.” The young vampire replied.  
“He didn’t happen to mention the fact that he let her escape and was chasing her across Europe?” His tone suggested that he was being sarcastic, but his face suggested that he was unamused. 

“No. He reported that everything was under control.” The young vampire explained, trying to keep himself from being blamed for the whole incident. His master stood in silence as he pondered his next move.  
“Cutler, you will contact Lord Moran and secure our safe passage to England. Don’t forget to inform him that we will require proper accommodations.” He informed the young vampire.  
“Right away, Master.” Cutler bowed before turning and making a quick exit. 

 

CHAPTER 6

{FRANCE}

The plane landed a short while later. They took two cars and drove a few hours to the countryside. The farm was large and some distance from any neighbors. As everyone piled out of the car, Greg’s parents exited the quaint farm house. 

“Greg, my boy! It’s so good to see you.” His father pulled him into a hug.  
“You too, dad.” He replied hugging the older man tighter. The two men moved apart. “Dad, Mum. This is Mycroft and his daughter Salina.” He gestured to the taller man beside him, then to the young lady behind him, “his brother Sherlock, and Sherlock’s…friend, John.” He motioned towards the two other men. “You know Stephanie and Marcus, and this is Marcus’s boyfriend, Stephan.” 

“Oh yes, Mycroft and I talked on the phone. I was so happy to get his call asking if the lot of you could come and stay here for a while. Your father and I have been looking forward to seeing the children for so long.” Greg’s mother smiled as she moved to hug Mycroft, who went completely rigid as she wrapped her arms around him. “Don’t worry my boy, I won’t bite.” She smiled, stepping back. 

“But he might.” Sherlock mumbled.  
“I heard that, young man.” Greg’s mother chided. Sherlock just rolled his eyes.  
“Rosy, why don’t you ask them inside?” Greg’s father insisted as he hugged his son.  
“Oh hush, Henry.” She turned to the teens, “Why don’t you all come inside and make yourselves comfortable?” Marcus and Stephan were the first inside the house, followed by Salina and Stephanie, and then the adults.  
“Rosy just put the kettle on if you would like some tea.” Henry said, sitting down at the kitchen table.  
“Greg, dear, why don’t you show the children where they will be staying?” Rosy asked, setting the table. 

“Right, upstairs with you all.” Greg ushered the teens out of the kitchen, through the living room, and up the stairs. Greg’s parents then turned their attention to John, Sherlock, and Mycroft.  
“So, Mycroft. What is it that you do for a living?” Henry asked. Sherlock snorted in amusement. “What?” He looked towards the younger Holmes.  
“I hold a minor position in the British Government.” Mycroft gave his standard reply.  
“Right, so are you MI-5 or MI-6?” Henry smirked as he took a sip of the tea that Rosy had placed before him. 

“Not easily fooled, are you?” John asked.  
“Nope.” Henry placed the cup back on the table.  
“Others may think what they like, but I could not possibly comment.” Mycroft replied.  
“Big fan of House o’ Cards, are yah?”  
“I’m Sorry?” Mycroft looked at Henry with confusion.  
“I don’t think he gets the reference, dear.” Rosy interjected as she placed a cup of tea in front of Mycroft.  
“You’re referring to Francis Urquhart, if I’m not mistaken.” Mycroft replied.  
“I was. What you said was almost a direct quote.”  
“Indeed. Where do you think he acquired the phrase?” Mycroft smirked.

 

“Really?” Asked John.  
“Of course not! Mycroft is just being a git. Nothing new there.” Sherlock scoffed.  
“Alright boys, that’s enough. I will have you all behave like gentlemen whilst here.” Rosy said, giving Sherlock a stern look.  
“Good luck to you Mrs. Lestrade.” John said, lifting his cup in salute. Mycroft hid his smile as he took another sip of tea.  
“He started it.” Sherlock stuck his tongue out at the elder Holmes.

“I’m finishing it.” Henry said. “So do any of the children like to ride?” Sherlock perked up at this.  
“Ride?” John asked.  
“Sherlock and I rode when we were younger. As for the children, I could not answer.” Mycroft replied.  
“Are we talking about horses?’ John asked.  
“Yes. We have some fine horses in the stables, if any of you would like to take a tour of the farm while you’re here.” Henry offered.  
“I’m afraid that horses are quite sensitive when it comes to Dragons.” Mycroft answered, much to Sherlock’s disappointment. 

“Oh, not to worry. They are used to a variety of shifters.” Rosy assured.  
“What about Vampires?” Sherlock shot out.  
“Vampires!” Henry sputtered.  
“Sherlock!” Mycroft hissed.  
“What!” He tried to look innocent.  
“I apologize. He can be a bit tactless at times.” Mycroft sighed.  
“It’s your daughter, isn’t it?” Rosy asked.  
“Yes. Though I had hoped to address the subject in a more pleasant way.” Mycroft placed his cup back on the table.

“It’s fine. We understand, don’t we, Henry?”  
“I never said it was a problem. I was just a little shocked.” He looked back at Mycroft. “Am I correct in assuming that her father was a vampire as well?”  
“Yes.” Mycroft answered slowly.  
“How did you figure that out?” Sherlock asked.  
“It was just a feeling, to be honest.” Henry said.  
“You mean Grahm told you!” Sherlock accused.  
“Greg!” Mycroft and John interrupted. 

“What! What did I do now?” Greg asked, walking back into the room.  
“Nothing, love.” Mycroft replied, placing a chaste kiss on Greg’s lips.  
“That’s disgusting.” Sherlock gagged.  
“Like you and John don’t kiss.” Greg replied.  
“Never!” John and Sherlock said together. 

“Methinks the gentlemen doth protest too much.” Henry laughed. John blushed and looked down at the cup in front of him. Sherlock just looked lost.  
“Grandpa Henry, can we go for a walk around the farm?” Stephanie asked. Henry looked towards Greg, who just shrugged and looked at Mycroft.  
“Is Salina going with you?” Mycroft asked.  
“I would say yes, but she disappeared shortly after we started unpacking upstairs.” Stephanie answered.  
“What!” Mycroft replied.  
“We were going to go look for her.” Marcus replied.  
“Without telling us?” Greg asked.  
“Well, we would have told you, but we didn’t want you to worry.” Marcus replied.  
“You’ve done a great job of not worrying everyone.” Sherlock jibed. Mycroft stood and walked to the front door. He opened it and walked outside. They heard a large whoosh sound before the door swung shut. 

“Mycroft!” Greg yelled after him. He ran towards the door, Sherlock and John right behind him. When they exited the house, Mycroft was nowhere to be found.  
“Where did he go?” Greg asked.  
“He took dragon form. He’s taken to the sky to look for Salina.” Sherlock replied.  
“What should we do?” John asked.  
“We’ll do a ground search.” Greg replied.  
“You boys go with the children and search the fields, Rosy will stay here, and I will check the stables.” Henry said. 

“Right, come on Sherlock.” John grabbed the younger Holmes’ arm and started pulling him towards the pastures. Greg shifted into his silver fox form. He then ran past Sherlock and John. Stephanie followed suit and shifted into a sandy-colored fox. Marcus and Stephan stayed behind in the house with Rosy.  
As Greg and his group walked through the fields they could see Mycroft circling the sky above. 

“Sherlock, you should help your brother; search from above. I’ll stay with Greg and Stephanie.” John said. Sherlock nodded and walked behind one of the out buildings. He proceeded to remove his clothing in preparation of shifting into this dragon form. He folded the fabric neatly into a pile to avoid wrinkles before crouching down and beginning to shift. Once in full dragon form he pushed off and took to the sky. John stared in awe of his flat mate; the strength and beauty of Sherlock’s wings blew him away.

***************************************************

Henry walked towards the stables. When he reached the door, he found it to be unlocked and slightly ajar. Henry pulled the door open quietly and stepped inside. He heard the soft tell-tale sound of crying. He looked inside of each stall for signs of where the noise was coming from. The horses didn’t seem too bothered by the presence of whatever or whoever was with them. There was a soft naying from one of the horses at the other end of the stables. Henry slowly inched his way towards the noise and the sound became more distinct. In the last stall he found his eldest mare nudging a crouched figure. 

“Salina?” Henry asked. The figure raised her head.  
“Who’s there?” she answered, scooting backwards until her back hit the wall.  
“It’s Henry, Greg’s father. We’re all very worried about you. Why did you run off?” Henry asked, crouching down in front of her. “Why don’t you come back with me?”  
“I can’t. I can’t go back. It’s too much.” She replied, tears streaming down her face.  
“What’s too much?” Henry asked.  
“This, all of it. Family.” She choked out.  
“What about family?” Henry moved closer.  
“Mycroft, he thinks I hate him. I don’t remember anything. I….what if I do and….I don’t want t….to.” she started sobbing louder. 

“Oh, sweetheart. Your father doesn’t think that. You should have seen him when Stephanie told us you were gone. He went paler than paper and took off for the door. He’s out there now, flying through the sky looking for you.” Henry reached forward and took her hand gently, as not to frighten her. “And I think that, if you don’t wish to remember whatever memory it is that you think will take this family away from you, you have every right to do so.” Henry said. 

“Really?” She wiped the tears from her face with the sleeve of her sweater, like a child.  
“Yes. Your father loves you, and I believe that if your memory does not return, no one will think less of you for it.” Henry stood, still holding her hand. “Now, why don’t we go back to the house and I’ll have Rosy make you some tea.”

“Ok.” Salina held tight to his hand as he helped her to stand. Henry led her out of the stables. They were walking along the path back towards the house when Stephanie came running towards them. She shifted mid stride and almost fell on her face.  
“Salina!” Stephanie yelled as she ran. “Everyone’s been so worried. We thought something really terrible had happened to you.”  
“I’m fine.” Salina replied.  
“You’ve been crying.” Stephanie said, looking at Salina’s tear-stained cheeks.  
“Have I?” Salina wiped at her face. 

“Stephanie! Oh, thank god you found her.” Greg said, walking up behind his daughter.  
John came racing towards them, Sherlock in small dragon form trailing behind him. Greg turned to see them just in time to be hit square in the chest by Sherlock. He was knocked to the ground by the force.  
“Thank you Lestrade, the amount of food you’ve been stuffing yourself with has broken my fall.” Sherlock sneered, jumping off Greg’s chest and onto the ground.  
“Damn you Sherlock!” Greg groaned as he stood up. 

“Ow.” Sherlock cried out after John poked him in the side. “What was that for?” Before John could answer, there was a loud sound of air being forced against the Earth. They all looked up to see Mycroft in his dragon form descending from the sky. He shifted as soon as his feet touched the ground. It was a smooth and graceful transformation; elegance at its best.  
“You found her.” Mycroft walked past Sherlock and John.  
“Stating the obvious.” Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Salina just wanted some time alone. Think she felt a little overwhelmed.” Henry replied.  
“I’m sorry.” Salina lowered her head in nervous apology. Mycroft moved to stand directly in front of her.  
“No.” He whispered, “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. “If anyone understands the need to be alone, it is I.” He whispered. She buried her face in his chest and mumbled something unintelligible. “I didn’t quite understand what you said.” Mycroft took a step back, but still kept ahold of her. 

“I do not wish to remember.” She replied. He looked at her with a slightly pained expression.  
“If you wish.” He nodded.  
“You’re not angry?” She asked.  
“No.” He said, stepping back. “Let’s go back inside.”  
“Alright.” She replied with a weak smile. Mycroft returned it with a small smile of his own, before turning around and heading towards the house. Greg, John, and Sherlock followed. Stephanie walked up to Salina.  
“Want to walk back together?” She asked.  
“If you want.”  
“Great. You coming, Grandpa Henry?” Stephanie asked.  
“Lead on, ladies.” He smiled.

Salina followed Stephanie down the trail, several steps behind the others. Halfway back to the house Stephanie reached out and clasped Salina’s hand in her own. The touch was like a shock of electricity between the two of them. Salina stopped in her tracks and gasped. Stephanie tried to pull away, thinking that she may have caused the other girl pain, Salina only tightened her grip. 

“Wait, don’t let go.” Salina’s eyes widened.  
“Why, what is it? Did you feel that?”  
“Yes, I felt it.” Salina looked around her, “I can see.”  
“What?” Stephanie looked at her with an expression of bewilderment.  
“I can see, but…not with my own eyes?”  
“You mean that you can see through my eyes?” Stephanie asked in shock and amazement.  
“Yes.” Salina laughed, tears once again flowing from her eyes.

“How? Why are you crying?”  
“I don’t know, magic possibly….You’re looking at me.”  
“Yes I am.” Stephanie tilted her head this way and that.  
“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been able to properly look at myself?” Salina brought her other hand up to her face.  
“I believe you were around five years old.” Mycroft spoke from behind them. Stephanie turned in his direction, which allowed Salina to see her father for the first time since this whole thing started. 

“You’re….” She started.  
“Tall, fat, ginger, and ugly. Just like I said.” Sherlock interrupted, once again in his human form.  
“And you’re skinny, pale, and obnoxious with unruly curls.” Salina shot back.  
“So you can see?” Greg asked, moving to stand next to Mycroft.  
“Yes. Though I have to say you do not look anything like I pictured in my head.” Salina replied. The girl beside her giggled.  
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Greg asked. 

“How is this possible? That’s the question you should be asking.” Sherlock said.  
“I believe it must be a bond of some kind. Magic this powerful can only occur between two people who share a strong emotional understanding.” Mycroft replied.  
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” Sherlock scoffed.  
“Shut up, Sherlock.” John whispered harshly.

“It is rare that two people share a bond so strong that they can produce such powerful magic. Never have I heard of it occurring between two different species of shifter before.” Henry explained.  
“We’ve only known each other for a few weeks, how can we possibly share a bond like this?” Salina asked.  
“The only explanation I have is that, Stephanie possesses a level of empathy that you, on a deeper level, respond to.” Henry explained.

 

“Like soul mates?” Stephanie asked, her grip tightening around the hand in her own.  
“You could think of it that way, yes.” Henry agreed.  
“That’s disgusting.” Sherlock responded.  
“Not like that, you idiot! He means they’re like best friends forever, only literally.” John rolled his eyes.  
“Yes, please do get your head out of the proverbial gutter, Sherlock.” Mycroft sighed.

 

CHAPTER 7

Around ten-thirty, three of the four teens managed to drag themselves downstairs for breakfast.  
“Good morning sleepyheads.” Rosey smiled.  
“Morning, Gran.” They replied.  
“What’s for breakfast?” Marcus asked as they sat down at the table.  
“Marcus, look at the plate in front of you. I think even you could deduce the answer to that question.” Stephanie replied.  
“I don’t care what it is, as long as it’s edible.” Marcus replied, picking up his fork. Stephan slapped him ‘round the back of the head.  
“Have a little more respect for your Gran.” Stephan chided.  
“Boys, behave.” Rosey warned.

“Where’s dad?” Stephanie asked.  
“Oh, they went for a walk.” Rosey answered.  
“In other words they’re…..”Marcus started.  
“Your father, Mycroft, John, Sherlock, and your granddad are out for a walk. Together.” Rosey interrupted.

“What’s going on?” Salina walked into the dining room/kitchen, holding onto the doorframe. Stephanie stood from her seat and moved to assist the young dragon to the table.  
“Just breakfast with the kids.” Rosy answered.

“Food…” Salina replied, inhaling deeply though her nose. Using Stephanie’s sight, the two girls quickly walked over to the table. Salina scooted into the booth next to Marcus, and pulled his plate in front of her; keeping a firm grip on Stephanie’s hand.  
“Geez. Somebody’s hungry.” Marcus yelped as Salina stole the fork out of his hand as well. 

“Let her alone, you. Poor thing didn’t eat lunch or dinner yesterday.” Rosey said, petting Salina’s hair as she placed another plateful of food in front of Marcus.  
“Thank you, Rosey.” Salina smiled.  
“You’re very welcome, sweetie. So, what are you lot up to, today?” Rosey asked.  
“Don’t know.” Marcus answered, taking a drink of milk.

“Well, Salina and I are going to try and fly today.” Stephanie answered.  
“We are?” Salina asked, around a mouth full of food.  
“Yep. We’re going to see if that connection works when you’re in dragon form. It’ll be fun.” Stephanie replied.

“Not sure this is a completely thought-out plan, sis.” Marcus replied.  
“Can I help?” Stephan asked, looking up from his plate.  
“Sure. That would be great.” Stephanie beamed.  
“Cool.” Stephan said, returning to his breakfast.

 

******************************************************

“So, Sherlock seems to be enjoying himself.” Greg laughed.  
“Indeed, he and John seem to be closer.” Mycroft replied.  
“Lil shit keeps shifting and running around in dragon form. Scared the life out of Rosey and Da this morning.” Greg shook his head.  
“Yes, he always has enjoyed acting like a child.” Mycroft smirked.  
“Want to teach him a lesson?” Greg grinned devilishly.  
“Oh, Gregory. I hope you are not suggesting what I think you are.” Mycroft smiled widely.

“You know I am; would serve him right, too.” Greg laughed.  
“I do not move about in such a frivolous manner whilst in dragon form.” Mycroft scoffed.  
“Oh come on, it’ll be fun.” Greg pleaded, his eyes going wide and dewy.  
“Oh, all right, if it will stop you from looking at me with those sad puppy dog eyes.” Mycroft replied.  
“Yes. Come on, it will be fantastic. Oh, I can’t wait to see the look on his face.” Greg’s smile grew. Mycroft smiled back.

*********************************************************

“Sherlock! Look out!” John yelled, as a large silver fox went dashing by his legs and headed straight for the younger Holmes. Greg chuckled internally. Sherlock whipped around just in time to be hit by Greg. The silver fox wrestled with the young black dragon before releasing him. Sherlock ran like the devil, Greg hot on his heels. 

"What is your problem, Lestrade?" He panted as he ran.  
Greg just yipped in response. A loud whooshing noise sounded over their heads as Mycroft swooped down and plucked the little black dragon from the ground. Sherlock began flailing around, desperate to get away.  
"Let me go, you git!" Sherlock yelled, as they flew higher and farther away.  
"Not until you have learned your lesson, little brother." Mycroft replied, smiling to himself. He was quite pleased that Greg had suggested this; teaching his brother a lesson about being a pest. Turnabout was fair play, after all. 

Below, Greg shifted back to his clothed human form. He began to laugh like mad at the sight of the two brothers. John tried to hide his amusement at the situation, but eventually joined Greg in laughter.  
"Anyone else wish they had a camera?" John asked, as Henry came riding up on the back of the elder mare.  
"This isn’t a common sight, I take it?" Henry remarked.  
"No. Usually they just exchange insults and death glares; though I don’t know which one frightens me the most." John replied.

"I see." Henry replied with a smile.  
"So what is Mycroft's plan?" John asked.  
"Not really sure, but you must admit we did catch Sherlock by surprise. Not like he doesn’t deserve it." Greg said, watching as Mycroft began to turn around and come back towards them.

 

"Let me go, you giant oaf!" Sherlock yelled from the clutches of the larger dragon.  
"Very well." Mycroft opened his claws, and let Sherlock drop a few feet to the ground. The elder Holmes then glided downwards, shifting only a few centimeters from the earth, back into his human form. Once again he landed with grace and agility. He smiled down at the younger Holmes, who was spread out on the dirt.  
"I said let go, not drop me, you stupid sod." Sherlock moaned, rubbing his backside.  
"Really Sherlock, you were barely one meter off the ground. You could have easily shifted and landed safely. I do hope you have learned your lesson about surprising people." Mycroft smiled tilting his head to the side and raising one eyebrow. 

"You're a right git, you know that." Sherlock replied, standing up.  
"So you said many times." Mycroft shook his head. Sherlock stepped forward in challenge before shrugging and turning his back on the lot of them.  
"Oh come on, Sherlock. It was just a prank." Greg called after him.  
"I don’t think he saw it that way." John said, turning to chase after the genius.

"Well, that could have gone better." Greg replied.  
"He's fine. I bet he's already planning a way to get the both of you back." Henry chuckled.  
"Right. We should go and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid." Greg sighed.  
"I'll see you boys back at the house then." Henry replied, guiding the horse back to the stables. 

Mycroft looked at Greg.  
"I did tell you that this would not go well." He said, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.  
"He'll get over it." Greg stepped behind him and wrapped his arms around Mycroft's middle. He kissed the taller man’s neck in a gesture of comfort.  
"We should be getting back." Mycroft breathed, taking Greg's hand in his.  
"Right." Greg stepped away and Mycroft opened his eyes. He turned to look at Greg.  
"Walk with me." Mycroft still held onto his hand.

"Sherlock!" John yelled, chasing after the detective.  
"Hurry up, John." He called back. Mycroft looked behind him to see his younger brother, in his human form, coming straight towards them. Sherlock kept walking until he was face-to-face with his brother; their noses just inches apart.

"Yes, brother mine?" Mycroft asked, arching an eyebrow.  
"I....I...John says..." Sherlock started.  
"Sherlock." John growled.  
"Fine....Yes...I...."Sherlock gritted his teeth.  
"Apology accepted." Greg smiled. A look of relief washed over Sherlock's face as he continued to stare at his brother. 

"Good, now apologize to your brother." John crossed his arms.  
"Fine! I'm sorry for being a brat." Sherlock hissed.  
"Very well. I hope you have learned a valuable lesson, and that John will not be required to make you apologize in the future." Mycroft whispered.  
"Yes. I learned that you, brother mine, are still a complete and utter git even whilst shifted." He whispered back.  
"I must say it is good to know that you did not injure your head in that fall, brother mine." Mycroft smiled.  
"Sherlock, the purpose of an apology is not to insult the person you are saying you're sorry to." Greg interrupted.  
"I hate you and your boyfriend." Sherlock hissed.  
"Sherlock!" John scolded.  
"What!" Sherlock snarled turning to face John.  
"Try again, and this time, be nice and sincere about it." John replied. Sherlock pouted before turning back around.

 

"What ever happened to us?" Sherlock asked.  
"Time. It was always our enemy, little brother." Mycroft replied.  
"You left. I was all alone. No one, not even our parents, understood me." Sherlock whispered, almost inaudible.  
"I am sorry, Sherlock." He moved forward to embrace the younger Holmes.  
"You are far too sentimental, Mycroft." Sherlock snorted.

 

CHAPTER 8 

"Stephan, I'm afraid that I have some bad news." Mycroft said.  
"What kind of bad news?" He asked.  
"It's about your mother." He replied.  
"What happened?" Stephan squawked.  
"She's been murdered. I am so sorry." Mycroft stepped closer and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.  
"Murdered. What the hell, Mycroft! You were supposed to protect her!" Greg yelled.

"Don't blame M, Greg. It was only a matter of time before someone got to her." Stephan sighed. "She  
knew too much about my father’s work. Why do you think that she made M my guardian?"  
"You knew she was going to die?" Greg asked.  
"I didn’t know how or when, but I did know that they wouldn’t want any loose ends." Stephan shook his head. "I should have known that she would bargain my life for hers." A tear began to make its way down his cheek. Greg pulled the young man into a hug.  
"You don’t have to go through this alone. You have a family right here. We won’t let anything happen to you. Will we, My?" Greg looked to his lover.  
"You are safe. I doubt they will come after you; but if they do then they will have a surprise waiting."  
Mycroft replied.

"Thank you, M." The boy sniffled through his tears. "Will there be a service?"  
"In a few days’ time. I assume that you would like to attend."  
"Please. She might not have stood up against father, but she was still my mum." Stephan said, stepping out of Greg’s embrace.

 

*****************************************RETURN TO LONDON**********************

Sherlock and John returned to 221B, while Greg and the teens returned to Mycroft’s flat. 

“Oh, John dear, there is a young lady upstairs. She’s got a baby with her.” Mrs. Hudson cooed as the two men started up the stairs.  
“What?” John asked, climbing the stairs quickly, Sherlock trailing not far behind. When they entered the flat there was indeed a young woman holding a baby in her arms.  
“Anthea? What are you doing here?” John asked.  
“I was informed that you would be returning to London today, and that I was to deliver little Miss Amilia Watson for her father.” She smiled. 

“Amilia Wa….My daughter?” John gasped, stepping forward to take the baby from Anthea.  
“She’s all yours, John Watson.” Anthea placed the baby into her father’s arms. John looked at his daughter with an expression of awe.  
“She’s beautiful.” John smiled.  
“There are bags in the kitchen on the table; they contain a few weeks’ supply.” She nodded and made her way out of the flat. 

 

“Just look at her, Sherlock.” John said, trying to show his flat mate the baby. Sherlock wasn’t paying attention; he was in the kitchen inspecting the bags of baby supplies. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he stormed out of the flat. John just smiled. A few hours later Sherlock returned, carrying a large box upstairs.  
“You’re back.” John smiled from where he was sitting in his chair; his sleeping daughter cradled to his chest. Sherlock walked over to his own chair, and set the box down before sinking to his knees beside it. 

“What’s with the box, Sherlock?” John asked.  
“Stuff.” Came a short reply.  
“Stuff. What kind of stuff?” John hated asking stupid questions like this because he was in fact, not stupid. Sherlock didn’t answer; he only opened the box and began pulling things out. “What is all that?”

“Toys, my toys.” He said.  
“Your toys? Why?” John asked.  
“Honestly, John?” Sherlock fixed the man with a look.  
“For Amilia?” John smiled.  
“Yes. I thought…” Sherlock sat back on his heels.  
“You thought what?” John frowned.  
“Never mind.” Sherlock began gathering the items he had taken out and put them back into the box. 

“No. Talk to me, Sherlock.” John pleaded. “What are you thinking?” Sherlock hung his head.  
“I wanted to give…” Sherlock started.  
“You wanted to give Amilia something from your childhood?” John gave a small, affectionate smile.  
“Yes.” He replied with a whisper. John stood and placed the baby into the basinet next to their chairs. Nice of Anthea to provide one, thought John. He figured it was probably more Mycroft’s doing than anything else. Once Amilia was settled comfortably, John moved to sit next to the taller man. He put one hand on Sherlock’s shoulder and the other on the edge of the box. It was filled with all kinds of different items.  
“These are wonderful, Sherlock.” John smiled, looking back at the man. Sherlock gave a weak smile in return. 

 

*************************************************The Next Day**********

 

“So…I got a call from John this morning.” Greg smiled over the rim of his coffee mug.  
“Oh, and what did our dear Dr. Watson have to say?” Mycroft asked cheekily.  
“Something about finding a beautiful woman with a baby in the living room of 221B.” Greg replied.  
“Did he now?” He replied, not looking up from the morning paper.  
“He also wanted to thank said beautiful woman for the lovely basinet and supplies.” Greg smirked.  
“I will be sure to pass along his thanks.” Mycroft replied.

“John also told me that Sherlock left Baker Street for a couple of hours yesterday afternoon and returned with a box full of old childhood toys.”  
“Indeed.” Came Mycroft’s short reply.  
“And of course, you had nothing to do with that.”  
“You will find that Mummy brought the box with her upon her last visit; per Sherlock’s request of course.” Mycroft answered, setting the paper aside.  
“Really. The little git was that excited about John having a baby?” Greg asked, smiling fondly at the thought of Sherlock becoming ecstatic over something that didn’t involve dead bodies.  
“If I recall, Dr. Watson said something about moving back into Baker Street permanently. Thus, my little brother has the notion that he and Dr. Watson will be raising said child together.”  
“That goes without saying. You don’t think John and Sherlock can raise a child together?” 

“I feel that Sherlock may be under the illusion that he and John are going to become… ‘mates’.” He paused. “My brother has always related better to children than adults. That being said, I do not believe there is any reason they could not raise the child together.” The subtext of ‘should not’ hung in the air between them.

“You just don’t want him getting hurt if John decides to move on.” Greg finished for him.  
“Quite.”  
“I think we should let those two sort stuff out on their own, yeah.” Greg suggested, placing a hand on his lover’s arm.  
“I think that would be wise.” Mycroft smiled, picking up the monogramed tea cup Stephanie had given him for his birthday.

“Really?” Greg looked at him with a shocked expression.  
“Yes.”  
“I didn’t think you could help but to meddle in your brother’s life.”  
“This is something he needs to sort out on his own. I have done enough ‘meddling’, as you so eloquently put it.”  
“Good. We have enough to worry about, with a house full of teenagers.” Greg replied, kissing his lover’s cheek.

 

*************************************A Few Days Later****************************

 

“You did a fantastic job converting my old room into a nursery. I am curious though…” John smiled as he entered the living room; Mrs. Hudson was sitting in John’s chair cradling ‘The little darling’, while Sherlock was in the kitchen…cleaning.  
“What?” Sherlock blushed when he saw the disbelieving look on the shorter man’s face.  
“Nothing. I was just wondering about your taste in wallpaper.” John teased. 

“You didn’t like it?” Sherlock asked.  
“I didn’t say that.”  
“I think it’s adorable.” Mrs. Hudson chimed. John smiled at the older woman before turning back to Sherlock.  
“Why bees, though?” John asked, stepping closer to the other man.  
“I like them, and I didn’t think you would appreciate it if I picked skulls, or something.” Sherlock shrugged.

 

“No. Bees are fine. I think they’re cute.” John blushed, putting a hand on the other man’s arm. Sherlock looked from the hand to his friend’s face multiple times.  
“You’ll stay?” He asked.  
“You thought I would leave because you chose bees as an appropriate choice to decorate a child’s room?” John chuckled.  
“I’m not good at sentiment.” Sherlock whispered, looking away.

“I know that you’re good with kids. I saw the way you interacted with Mary’s friend’s son; and the way you’ve bonded with Greg’s kids since his divorce. You relate to them, better than you do most adults.”  
“Well, children are not complete morons. They have yet to be corrupted by society’s stupidity.” Sherlock replied.  
“In other words, you like them.” John challenged.  
“Fine! Yes, I like them!” Sherlock answered, throwing his hands up into the air in defeat. 

“And you like Amilia?” Mrs. Hudson asked, walking into the kitchen.  
“Stupid question.” Sherlock mumbled.  
“He says yes, Mrs. Hudson.” John chuckled, stepping forward to take the baby from her. Sherlock rolled his eyes.  
“I’m expected for a late lunch with friends. I’ll see you boys and the little one later.” She giggled as she left to go back downstairs. 

“Would you like to hold her, Sherlock?” John offered.  
“I’m….” He looked around, appearing quite lost. “Um….wash my hands.” He turned to the sink and began scrubbing away.  
“I was surprised to see you cleaning up your experiments. I didn’t think you would do it without my having to ask.” John nodded at the partially cleared table, as Sherlock dried his hands. “Living room; it will be easier if you’re sitting.” 

“I’ve held a baby before, John.”  
“I realize that, but it would just make me more comfortable if we were sitting.” He had walked into the living room and towards the sofa.  
“Alright.” Sherlock replied. When both men were seated, John gently placed Amilia in Sherlock’s arms. 

Sherlock looked at the little girl in his arms. He found himself remembering the first time he was allowed to hold Salina. He knew from the wide-eyed look she gave him, that his niece had inherited the Holmes family genius. A feeling welled up in him: the feeling of pride and excitement of having an opportunity to teach someone, the way Mycroft had taught him. 

“Sherlock? You alright?” John asked, a concerned look on his face.  
“Fine. I was just…” He trailed off when he realized that little Amilia was looking at him. She had blue eyes that screamed intelligence.  
“I’m going to keep you.” Sherlock whispered. John smiled at the thought of Sherlock completely forgetting himself whilst holding a baby. He felt a burst of affection towards the man that he had never felt before….Love.

 

*******************************The Following Day**************************

 

The next day Stephan’s mother was put to rest. Mycroft had asked Anthea to see to every detail, it was expensive but purposely tasteful. There was no need for anything extravagant, but the woman deserved a beautiful farewell. 

Marcus stood with Stephan, their hands never parting as they watched the elegant white casket lower into the earth. Tears fell silently from their faces. The two stepped forward to each drop a single white rose into the ground. 

When they stepped back, a shovel of dirt was dumped into the grave. The priest finished the last rights and crossed himself. Mycroft and Greg stood behind the two boys as those who had gathered offered their condolences, sympathies, and…pity. 

Stephanie and Salina had gone ahead to the flat with John and Sherlock. Amilia had begun to fuss because she needed a change, whilst the two girls felt their presence was smothering the boys. When all had departed, and it was only the four of them, the priest, and the grounds keeper, Stephan spoke.

“I would like to wait.” He whispered, wiping the tears from his face.  
“Of course.” Greg replied. He patted the boy on the shoulder and squeezed Marcus’ arm. He and Mycroft started walking to the car. 

They had been through a lot together. Greg thought back to that night: if Mrs. Marceletti hadn’t intervened when she did, neither of their boys would be here today. In all likelihood it would be their graves that he and Mycroft would be standing over. Greg pushed the thought away as he blinked back tears.

He leaned against the side of the car, tilting his head back as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Mycroft stood next to him before leaning back as well. He reached into his pocket. Greg heard the tell-tale click of a lighter before the smell of cigarette smoke invaded his senses. He opened his eyes to see Mycroft taking a drag, his eyes closed in concentration. 

“I didn’t know you started again?” Greg asked, concerned.  
“Only when the stress becomes too much and a drink is unavailable or inappropriate.” Mycroft replied, letting out a puff of smoke and opening his eyes.  
“I understand. Mind if I…” Mycroft had read his mind and handed him a cigarette. “Thanks.” He mumbled as Mycroft held out the lighter. Greg took a drag before speaking. “Are we ever going to tell Stephan?” 

“It would be unwise to do so.” Mycroft replied.  
“Is he in any danger?” Greg asked, giving his lover a concerned look.  
“No. Don Marceletti has promised to let his grandson alone. It would not do to have a ‘family heir’ murdered. He has asked me to look after the boy on ‘the family’s’ behalf.” Mycroft answered, taking another drag from his cigarette. 

“And Stephan’s mother? What is the Don going to do about her?”  
“If I understood Don Marceletti correctly, his daughter will be returning home, never to set foot on British soil again. She is safe with ‘the family’. No harm will come to her.”  
“But Stephan is safe, right?” Greg asked, needing confirmation.

“I promise.” Mycroft replied, before changing the subject of conversation. “We cannot make a habit of smoking. Our girls would be extremely disappointed if we did so.” Mycroft murmured.  
“Stephanie would have us properly chastised, I’m sure of it.” Mycroft gave him a small smile.  
“Of that I have no doubt.” He took one last drag before dropping it and crushing it with the heel of his shoe. As the two boys approached the car Greg did the same. 

 

PART III  
CHAPTER 1

Cutler’s shoes clicked against the pavement of the street rhythmically as he hurried to meet his contact. He stopped when he had reached an abandoned building a few blocks from The Master’s compound. The young vampire’s hands shook slightly as he opened the door, which creaked with the effort. 

“Ah, the protégé returns.” A voice said from the dark.  
“Mr. Westwood. I have come with news from The Master.” Cutler replied. “He wants you to return to London to meet with Lord Moran and arrange for his arrival.”  
“Return to London? Did he say anything about the girl?” The voice asked.  
“Lord Moran let her escape. My sources say that she has lost her memory and has returned to her family. To say The Master is unhappy would be an understatement.” Cutler explained.

“Oh, dear. Well then, I should return promptly to London and give him a good thrashing.”  
“The Master wants him unharmed; he still has his uses.” The young vampire replied.  
“Don’t worry, Cutler. He will remain intact.” The voice chuckled.  
“And the girl? What will you do about her?” Cutler asked.  
“I will find her and contact you with further information. Until then, just do as you are told.” The voice commanded.  
“Understood.” Cutler replied.

 

CHAPTER 2

A week after Mrs. Marceletti’s funeral, Mycroft, Sherlock, John, and Greg made the collective decision to leave London once more. They all agreed that it may be safer to stay away from London for a while; to distract the teens from their grief and the adults from their worry.

Mycroft contacted his and Sherlock’s parents, informing them that they would be staying at the Holmes’ family cottage for the Holidays. Mrs. Holmes was elated by the news, saying that she was going to throw a grand Christmas party in the “children’s” honor. Sherlock groaned in mock agony when he heard the news. Mycroft purposely left out the fact that their parents would still be out of the country until the day before the party.

 

***************************The Holmes Family Cottage*********************

 

When they arrived at the cottage, Mycroft suggested that everyone should take some time to explore the grounds after settling into their rooms. Sherlock and John took little Amilia upstairs for a change. Greg helped the boys up to their room, and Stephanie offered to unpack Salina’s luggage for her, leaving Mycroft and his daughter alone in the front walk. 

“Would you like to vist the stables?” Mycroft asked nervously.  
“Yes.” Salina answered.  
“Very well.” He took her hand and led her away from the house. “I believe that you will find this surprise to your liking.”  
“Surprise?” She asked, following him past several horses before they stopped. The hand grasping hers slid down to her wrist and lifted it into the air. She felt the soft round bump of a horse’s nose under palm. 

“Mitternacht, or midnight if you prefer. He is yours, if you wish to ride. I hired a trainer to take care of him whilst you were away. He is run twice a day, properly fed, and groomed.” He explained.  
“He’s mine?” She moved her hand up and down the horse’s nose.  
“You have no memory of him, but I assure you that he is yours. He will let no one else ride him.”  
“Really? I imagine the he’s beautiful.” Her hand glided along Midnight’s skin and into his long, thick, wavy mane.  
“He’s quite large for a lady’s horse. Not that you would have chosen anything else.” He smiled.

“How old?” She asked.  
“Eighteen. Sherlock told me that you took a fancy to the young colt early on. I suggested a puppy, but mummy wouldn’t hear of it. She declared him yours soon after your second birthday. The two of you were quite inseparable, much like Sherlock and Redbeard.”

“Who?” She asked, confused.  
“He was the family dog when we were growing up, but he preferred Sherlock’s company to anyone else.”  
“Didn’t you like Redbeard?” She asked.  
“I never spent enough time with him to find out. I too was engrossed in my studies. Anytime I did spend with him, Sherlock was not far behind. I was often snapping at the two of them to get off the furniture with their dirty paws.” He chuckled at the memory.

“You know, I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh.” She smiled.  
“Is it?”  
“Yes. You should laugh more often.”  
“I don’t often find things in life to make me laugh.” Her smile faded. “Although with the amount of teenagers living at the flat, that is slowly changing. I am looking forward to more opportunities to laugh in the future.”  
“Good, because with four teenagers and Sherlock around, you’re going to need a sense of humor.” She replied, a smile returning to her face.

“Yes. I don’t believe Mycroft will make it one week in a house of teens without losing his sanity.” Sherlock said, walking into the stables.  
“I managed to put up with you for this long, Sherlock, and I might add that I still put up with you.” Mycroft sneered.  
“No one asked you to stuff your big nose in where it wasn’t wanted, brother mine.”  
“Stop it, both of you.” Salina interrupted, “Can’t you just get along for five minutes?” she asked.

“This is the only way we know how to “get along” anymore.” Sherlock replied.  
“Being cruel to each other?” Salina asked, looking between them.  
“Yes.” Mycroft whispered.  
“What happened between you two?” She asked mournfully.

“Time.” Sherlock answered. Salina looked at him quizzically.  
“You were not the first person I abandoned.” Mycroft answered his daughter flatly.

 

*******************************The Next Morning*****************

 

“Why do I have to watch the kids? What did I do to deserve this punishment?” Sherlock whined.  
“It’s not a punishment if I give you a credit card, it is brother mine?” Mycroft gave him a small smirk.  
“Well if you’re going to give me your credit card, then I would gladly watch over your spawn.” Sherlock beamed.  
“You misunderstand me, Sherlock.” Mycroft handed the little plastic card to Stephanie. “I’m giving my card to your group, not to you specifically.”  
“What? Why are you giving it to her, don’t you trust me, brother mine?” Sherlock tried to pull his most innocent face.  
“Definitely not.”  
“But you trust her.” He pointed at Stephanie. “That’s just childish.”  
“I’m dealing with a child.” Mycroft replied. Sherlock stuck his tongue out. “Thank you for making my point, little brother.” Sherlock gave him a dirty look before turning and walking away.

***********************************************************************

Mycroft and Greg dropped the teens and Sherlock off in the village with John for supervision, before returning to the cottage for some much needed ‘alone time’. The group walked along the rows of shops before stopping suddenly.

“So, why did you lot want to do separate shopping from the overbearing adults?” Sherlock asked.  
“We wanted to get something special for M and Da.” Stephanie answered.  
“Oh, that’s nice.” John answered.  
“It will be, if Lockie can keep his mouth shut.” Salina cut in.  
“Not likely.” John chuckled.  
“Hey, I can keep a secret.” The four teens burst out laughing. “I can, when I want to.” Sherlock replied.  
“We’ll see.” Salina said.  
“Ten pounds says My will deduce him instantly.” Marcus laughed.  
“I’ll take that bet.” Stephanie giggled.  
“John, they’re all against me!” Sherlock cried.  
“Actually, I believe that Stephanie was on your side.” John interjected.

“Hey, I’m on his side, too.” Stephan replied.  
“Great! I get trust fund boy and the step-child, but my own niece is against me.” Sherlock whined.  
“I’m not against you. I just figure from the bits and pieces I remember, that you have a real problem with hiding things from M.” Salina replied.  
“He always says that he’s the smarter one.” Sherlock mumbled.  
“So are we going to shop, or stand around blabbing all day?” John laughed. 

“Right. So where should we start?” Stephanie asked.  
“Da mentioned something about a party Grandmother Violet was planning, and that we should buy something appropriate to wear.” Stephanie replied.  
“Oh. I hate those dull, boring parties that Mummy throws.” Sherlock whined.  
“Appropriate, meaning ‘formal’?” John asked.  
“Unfortunately.” Sherlock sighed. “I’ll take the boys to the tailor down the street. John, you take the girls to Madam Natasha across the street.” Sherlock pointed to a shop with a deep crimson door and beautiful colored gowns in the windows. 

“All right, but how do you plan on paying for those fancy clothes when we’ve got the credit card?” John asked.  
“I guarantee you that we will take longer to be fitted than those two girls will to try on twenty dresses.” Sherlock sneered. “You two, follow me.” Sherlock motioned for Marcus and Stephan to walk toward the tailor’s.  
“Well then, shall we, ladies?” John asked.

 

************************Inside Madam Natasha’s Dress Shop*******************************

“Welcome ladies. How may I help you today?” The shop keeper asked.  
“Hi. We need dresses for an evening party.” Stephanie replied.  
“Well, we have many evening gowns that would suit two beautiful young ladies like yourselves. Perhaps something to compliment your eyes or hair?” The shopkeeper suggested.  
“Blue for Salina, and green for me.” Stephanie replied.  
“Of course. Any particular design or cut you’re looking for?” She asked.  
“Something fitted, but conservative, and nothing too revealing.” Stephanie answered.  
“Very well. If you follow me, I can show you a wonderful selection that just arrived from London yesterday.” She smiled.  
Stephanie and Salina followed the shop keeper. John found himself a place to sit where he could keep an eye on the door and the girls.

 

*********************************Inside the Tailors**************************************

 

A small bell rang as Sherlock and the boys entered the tailor’s. A tall young woman and a short elderly man stood behind the counter. 

“Morning gentlemen, how may I help you?” The young woman asked.  
“We need something for a formal occasion.” Marcus replied.  
“Oooooh. White tie, black tie, full tails, or just a nice fitted suit?” She asked with a coy smile.  
“Full tails.” Sherlock interjected. The smile faded from her face.  
“Right, let’s get your measurements and see if we have something in your size. Or did you want….”  
“That will be fine.” Sherlock said flatly.  
“Alright. Which one of you wants to go first?” She asked.  
“I’ll go first.” Stephan replied.  
“Very well then handsome, step up onto the platform and we will get started.” She smiled brightly once more. 

 

CHAPTER 3

 

“So, we have the cottage all to ourselves.” Greg purred in Mycroft’s ear as they exited the car.  
“Indeed, we do.” Mycroft answered, opening the front door. Once inside, he found himself being turned around and pushed up against the now-closed door. “Gregory!” Mycroft exclaimed before he was silenced by Greg’s lips against his own.

Greg placed one hand on the door next to Mycroft’s head and the other reached down to bolt the door closed. Mycroft took one hand and threaded it through Greg’s hair. The other slid down to grasp the man’s jacket and pulled him closer, making him groan in response. Greg’s mouth left Mycroft’s, and trailed over the taller man’s chin and down to his neck. 

Greg took his now-free hand and began pulling at Mycroft’s tie. He then unbuttoned part of the shirt not covered by the waistcoat, and started nibbling on the patch of skin where the neck and the shoulder met. Mycroft moaned loudly. Greg smiled against his neck, delighted that only he had the ability to make this man lose himself like this. It was beautiful.

“Gregory!” Mycroft moaned.  
“Yes.” Greg moved his lips back up to his lover’s lips.  
“Please….” Mycroft pleaded. Greg chuckled.  
“Tell me what you want, love.” Greg whispered in the man’s ear.  
“Not here…Upstairs….now.” Mycroft stuttered out as he pushed the older man away.  
“Alright, love.” Greg grabbed his hand, and pulled him in the direction of the stairs. They ascended the steps swiftly and all but ran to their room at the west wing of the cottage. 

They stepped inside and slammed the door shut. Greg kissed Mycroft passionately as he backed the taller man towards the bed. Mycroft fell onto his back with a soft grunt. He supported himself on his elbows and watched as his lover stripped with urgency. When Greg was fully nude, he pulled Mycroft up into a sitting position by his waistcoat. 

“Take off your suit.” Greg growled. Mycroft stood, grasped Greg by the arms, and pushed him down on the bed. He then proceeded to slowly peel each layer off and set it onto the chair opposite the bed. Greg looked on with longing. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and he watched as each inch of his lover came into view. Mycroft’s cufflinks were set on the dresser next to the chair, as was his pocket watch. When he was down to only his pants he moved towards the bed. 

He braced a hand on Greg’s chest and pushed him to lay flat on his back. He placed a kiss on Greg’s lips as his hands roamed the body beneath him. Greg’s head fell back as his lover’s hand encircled his length. Mycroft smiled at the sight of his lover: head thrown back, eyes closed, and mouth slack in ecstasy.

“My…don’t tease me. It’s been too long since…” He groaned as the man continued to pump his length. Mycroft leaned down, pressing his lips to Greg’s ear.  
“Gregory. I want you to…I want you inside of me.” He still couldn’t bring himself to ask Greg to make love to him. The words were still too painful.  
“Yes…God, My, I want that too.” He groaned, opening his eyes to look at his lover. He pressed up against him, making Mycroft’s eyes flutter at the new found friction against his hardness. 

Greg slid his hands down Mycroft’s waist and hooked his fingers into the band of the soft dark blue fabric of the other man’s pants. He then slid his hands all the way into the fabric and around to fondle the firm plumpness of Mycroft’s backside, before pulling the man’s pants completely off. They both groaned as their erections came into contact. Mycroft lifted his knees so he could kick the offending garment away. Greg saw this as an opportunity to roll the man onto his back. He looked down at Mycroft, whose eyes were blown wide with arousal. 

“Gregory, please…I need…..” Mycroft ran a hand through his lover’s silver hair.  
“Yes, love…Just let me get…”Greg leaned over the side of the bed and opened the drawer of the bedside table. He pulled out a couple of condoms and some lube. Greg was loath to admit it, but he desperately wished they could forgo protection just once. Just to feel Mycroft’s heat without the barrier, to feel his seed fill the man up; maybe it was the thought that they could have a child together that made him ache so badly. 

“Gregory?” Mycroft’s voice brought the man out of his thoughts. Greg shook his head as his lover came back into focus.  
“Yes, My?” He replied.  
“You seem dazed. Are you alright?” He asked.  
“Fine. Everything’s good.” He smiled and leaned down to kiss him. Mycroft turned his head.  
“My?” Greg moved a hand to cup the man’s cheek. “What’s wrong, love?”  
“I know what you want, Gregory….I cannot give it to you.” He refused to look at Greg.  
“We talked about this, My. We agreed to always use protection and I will keep to our agreement.” Mycroft allowed Greg to turn his head and look into his eyes. “I would never go back on our agreement, unless you wish to. I love you, My. It’s just hard not to imagine what it would be like, you know.” Mycroft nodded and kissed the hand cupping his cheek. 

“I am sorry, Gregory.”  
“No, never be sorry for this. It is your body, your wish, and I respect and worship you for it.” Greg placed a chaste kiss on his lips.  
“Thank you.” Mycroft whispered against those loving lips.  
“Now, shall I make love to you? I’ve been aching to for weeks.” Greg felt a smile tug at his lover’s lips. “Thought so.” He sat back on his heels, and grabbed one of the foil packets sitting on the bed next to them. 

He tore it open and rolled it on to himself before doing the same for his lover. He reached for the bottle of lube next, clicking the cap open and poring some onto his fingers. He rubbed the liquid between his digits before bringing them down to Mycroft’s hole. He slowly inserted one finger, gently moving it in and out before adding a second. Mycroft couldn’t help himself as he pushed down against the fingers. It had been too long since they had done this. The last few weeks had made it almost impossible for them to have any time together without interruption. Any time they did manage to find themselves alone ended in mutual hand jobs or one of them receiving a quick blow job. Greg added more lube to his fingers, this time he inserted three and brushed them against his lover’s prostate. 

“Oh…Gregory! Please….Do it now.” Mycroft’s fingers clutched at Greg’s shoulders. Greg poured more lube into his hand and slicked up his hard length.  
“You ready, love?” Greg asked, looking into his lover’s eyes. Mycroft nodded. Greg positioned the tip of his cock against the man’s hole and thrust forward. 

 

CHAPTER 4

“Oh, Salina, it’s gorgeous. It complements the color of your eyes.” Stephanie cooed, clapping her hands and jumping with glee before taking the other girl’s hand in her own.  
“Does it? I don’t think I’ve worn anything this extravagant before.” She said, turning in front of the mirror.  
“It matches your eyes. You have M’s eyes.” She stood behind Salina.  
“I think green agrees with your eyes and your hair. Though it would look better if you put it up into a bun or something.”  
“You should wear your hair down. I like the way it curls, like I imagine Sherlock’s would if he wore it long.” Stephanie giggled. 

“John, what do you think?” When they got no reply, they called again. “John!” John jumped from the spot where he had been dozing.  
“Sorry, what was it you were saying?” He asked, pretending that he had not just been caught sleeping while on guard duty.  
“What do you think about these?” They asked, twirling around in the dresses.  
“Yeah, umm… They’re great.” He replied.  
“Do you think M and Da will approve?” Stephanie asked.  
“I don’t think Greg is going to like how low-cut that dress is.” John replied.

“The scandal.” Stephanie gasped, bringing a hand up to her mouth.  
“Just get what you want. You and I both know there is no arguing; the two of you are going to buy whichever dresses you want no matter what I say.” John replied, standing to stretch.  
“Right.” Stephanie said, turning back to Salina. “Let’s get these, then go find some shoes and accessories to go with them.” Salina nodded in agreement as the two of them headed back to the dressing rooms. John shook his head. How on earth did he get stuck watching the girls and Sherlock the boys? He imagined that Greg had more experience with dress-shopping than he did. 

 

*******************************The Tailors***************************************

 

“This should fit you fine.” The young woman handed a suit to each of the boys and turned to Sherlock. “Here.” She said before walking out of the changing rooms.  
“She really doesn’t like you.” Marcus laughed.  
“Most people don’t.” Sherlock replied.  
“Good thing we’re not most people then.” Stephan said, sliding the curtain to his changing room closed.  
“Quite.” Sherlock gave Marcus a small smile, before closing his own curtain. 

The young woman came back a few minutes later. “How’s it going, gentleman?” She called into the changing rooms.  
“Good.” The two boys called back.  
“And what about you, Mr. Sarcasm?” She asked Sherlock, who pulled back his curtain and scowled.  
“Fine! Perfect as always, Mr. Vargas.” Sherlock said to the short man standing behind the tall woman.  
“Glad to hear it, Mr. Holmes.” He beamed at Sherlock before turning to scowl at the young woman and leave the changing area.  
“Sherlock?” Marcus asked, opening his curtain.

 

“Yes?” He answered, never taking his eyes off of the young woman, who shrank back from his gaze.  
“Does this look right to you?” He asked, fussing with the suit jacket. Sherlock looked over at him.  
“I believe that you may have been given the wrong suit… Stephan?” Sherlock called to the closed curtain.  
“I think you’re right, Sherlock.” The shorter boy stepped out from behind the curtain. His sleeves enveloped his hands, and his trousers engulfed his feet.  
“Madam, you are the stupidest seamstress by far.” Sherlock yelled back at the tall woman.  
“I am so sorry, Mr. Holmes.” She stammered.  
“Yes, I’m sure you are.” The short man said, walking back into the changing area. He looked at his assistant. “You are dismissed. You have made a mockery of me for the last time.” He said, waving a hand at the young woman. She choked back a sob, her eyes filling with tears as she stalked from the changing room. The front door could be heard slamming shut as she left the shop.

“My humblest apologies, Mr. Holmes.” The short man said, trying to make amends for the young woman’s behavior.  
“Dismissing her is all the apology I needed.” Sherlock replied.  
“No, I fear that she has cost me my best customers. The Holmes family have been patrons of this shop for years, I would hate for it to be said that they were not treated well.” He said.  
“I wouldn’t worry about losing my brother’s patronage, Mr. Vargas.” Sherlock sneered.  
“I will make this right, Mr. Holmes. How about I give you the boy’s suits for half price?” He asked.  
“I believe that would be acceptable. Not that I really care how much of my brother’s money is spent.” Sherlock replied with an air of snobbery. 

“Of course, Mr. Holmes. I shall correct the order at once.” He gave a slight bow before leaving the changing area.  
“What the hell was that? I swear you sounded just like M for a second.” Marcus said, looking back and forth between Sherlock and the space that the older man had just vacated.  
“I can behave like a posh git when the situation calls.” Sherlock smiled at the boys.  
“You don’t do posh.” Stephan replied.  
“No but I can act like a spoiled brat; or so Mycroft tells me. Now hurry and change suits.” He said, turning and closing the curtain to his changing room behind him. The two boys looked at each other and exchanged wicked grins. “And no fornicating. We don’t have time.” Sherlock called. The two boys giggled as they entered the same changing room and closed the curtain.

 

*********************************Outside the Tailors*******************************

 

“You think they’re done messing around yet?” Stephanie asked.  
“Well, Sherlock did say that it would likely take them longer to get one suit fitting than us to try on twenty dresses.” Salina replied. John had reached out his hand, when the door opened suddenly and a tall young woman came out, crying, and slammed the door behind her.  
“Hey!” John yelled as she ran down the street.  
“Yep, I would say Sherlock is here for sure.” Stephanie said, watching as the young woman disappeared around the corner at the end of the block. John just shook his head and opened the door.  
“Ah, Miss. Holmes. Am I correct in assuming that you have come to collect your Uncle?” The short man behind the counter asked with a smile. Salina hesitated for she had no recollection of the old man.  
“Yes. I hope he has not caused too much trouble for you.” She replied.  
“Not at all. I should have dismissed her weeks ago. Terrible seamstress she was, nice on the eyes though.” 

“I have no doubt that you will find another, more suitable seamstress to take her place.” Salina smiled.  
“Seamstresses are a dime a dozen in London; I shall ask my sister to find me another candidate.”  
“Quit dawdling, you dirty beasts.” Sherlock yelled as he came out of the changing area, suit in hand. He looked at John as he set his suit on the counter.  
“Would you like a garment bag for the tails, Mr. Homes?” The short old man asked.  
“Yes.” Sherlock replied.  
“Any ties, pocket squares, bowties, or socks today?” he asked.  
“l shall let the boys pick out their own squares and such.” Sherlock said.  
“Any particular color for you, Mr. Holmes?”  
“Purple.” Sherlock replied, his eyes locked with John’s. John looked away, blushing. If anyone noticed they didn’t say anything.

Stephan and Marcus exited the changing area a few minutes later. Stephanie giggled when she saw them. Their lips were pink and swollen from snogging in the changing room.  
“At this rate, those tails won’t make it to Grandmother Violet’s party intact.” Stephanie smiled.  
“Shut up.” Marcus replied as he and Stephan set their tails on the counter.  
“Ok boys, what color square do you want?” The old man asked.  
“We should try to match the girls’ dresses. Since we will be acting….”  
“That’s not necessary, Marcus. Stephanie and I can look after ourselves. Choose any color you like.” Salina interrupted.

“Alright. Do you have anything in a florescent color?” Marcus asked.  
“Really?” Sherlock rolled his eyes.  
“Leave him alone Sherlock.” John said, crossing his arms over his chest.  
“Fine.”  
“I do believe I have something that fits that description in the back.” The old man stepped away from the counter. He returned almost immediately, a box in hand. “Any of these colors strike your fancy, young man?” He asked, opening the box. Inside were a number of blindingly bright pocket squares and bowties.

“I think I like the green pocket square and bowtie.” Marcus said, picking them out of the box. The old man smiled.  
“And for your friend?” He asked.  
“umm…” Stephan picked through the box.  
“Wait!” Sherlock screeched. Stephan’s hand halted in shock. Sherlock’s hand dived into the crater that the boy’s hand had created. “Ha. It’s perfect.” Sherlock pulled out a bowtie and matching pocket square.

“You sure do like your purple, don’t you Sherlock.” Marcus said, shaking his head.  
“I didn’t say anything about that obnoxious green you have in your hand.” The ‘shut up’ bit at the end was implied by the look on his face.  
“Right. May I continue?” Stephan asked.  
“Whatever.” Sherlock waved him off with a hand as he turned the material over and over in his other hand. Stephan began searching through the box again.  
“There you are.” He said with a smile. He pulled out a black and green plaid bowtie and square.

“Are we quite finished, ladies?” John asked. Stephanie giggled.  
“Yes!” Sherlock hissed.  
“Good, now if you don’t mind I would like to get going. I’ve had enough of this for one day.” John said.  
“Wait. What about you? Aren’t you going to pick something out, John?” Stephanie asked.  
“No! I don’t care what color the damn bowtie or pocket thingy is.” John said, turning and promptly walking outside.  
“Sherlock, pick something for him and let’s be done with it.” Salina said. She and Stephanie stepped up to the register to pay.

***************************Back at the Cottage*****************************

“That was fantastic.” Greg breathed as he rolled onto his back.  
“Hhmmm.” Mycroft replied. Greg looked over at him with a smug smile.  
“I will take that as a yes.” Greg turned on his side and pulled the taller man to him.  
“Unnn Hmmm.” Mycroft said, opening his eyes to look at his lover.  
“Oh dear. I didn’t think it possible, but I do believe that I have rendered the great Mycroft Holmes speechless.” Greg laughed, pressing a kiss to the other’s lips.

“Oh, hush.” Mycroft replied in between kisses.  
“Want to go again?” Greg asked, reaching between them to stroke the taller man’s flaccid member.  
“Gregory!” Mycroft exclaimed; he was released.  
“Alright, but I do think we need a shower.” Greg smiled deviously.  
“You’re incorrigible.” He smiled as his lover rolled over and got out of bed.  
“I do hope so.” He replied, walking towards the loo.

 

CHAPTER 5

Lord Sebastian Moran sat quietly in his home office, typing away on the keyboard in front of him when  
he suddenly turned and stood, his pistol in hand, and pointed at the intruder in the shadows.  
"So glad you're happy to see me, Sebby." The figure mocked, stepping from the shadows into the  
dim light of the office. When the man's face came into view the gun in Moran's grip shook.

"You, but how can....you're dead." He whispered in shock.  
"Oh, Seb. Faking your death is all the rage. The Woman did it, Sherlock did it, and so have I." The dark-  
haired man smiled, revealing elongated canines.  
"No! You're not one of them. You can't be....please tell me it’s not true...Jim." Moran whispered.

"So sorry to disappoint, Sebby." Moriarty replied. "The Master has a task for you."  
"The Master? What does he want now?” Moran asked. “I've already done as he requested; the girl is no longer a threat to him."  
"You screwed up, Sebastian! You let her go! Lucky for you that he still finds you valuable!” Moriarty  
hissed. “The Master wants you to prepare for his arrival. It's time for us to take our rightful place in this  
world.” Moran took a deep breath and lowered the gun. 

“What does he need?” Moran asked. Jim’s smile widened.  
“I knew you would see things our way.” He stepped even closer to Moran, taking the gun from the taller man’s hands. “I’ve missed you, Sebby.” Jim threw the gun to the floor and grabbed the front of Moran’s shirt. Sebastian held his breath as Moriarty leaned in, fangs exposed. He nuzzled Sebastian’s neck.  
“Don’t.” Sebastian whispered. Moriarty smiled against Sebastian’s neck.

“Shhhh.”Moriarty whispered against the skin of the taller man’s neck. He inhaled slowly. “You smell….of fear….and…excitement.” He smiled.  
“Jim…”Sebastian trailed off.  
“Yes, Sebby?” He asked, kissing his way up the man’s neck.  
“Why did you turn?” Moriarty pulled back to look at Sebastian.  
“I didn’t have a choice. It’s always been my destiny to be a vampire….a Moroi to be exact.” He replied.  
“Does The Master know you’re not a Stregoi?” The taller man asked. 

“Yes. Though I don’t think he is too concerned with that little fact. I am his favorite; unlike you and Cutler I haven’t screwed up. I have completed every task he has set me.” Moriarty explained. Sebastian looked at him with a hurt expression on his face. “Don’t look at me like that, Sebby. I know we work better as a team and this screw-up tells me just how much you need me.” Moriarty smiled, revealing more of his fangs. 

 

Sebastian backed away quickly, a little too quickly, and tripped. He landed on his back on the floor, knocking the air out of his lungs momentarily. Moriarty’s smile widened as he inched forward and kneeled on the floor between Sebastian’s legs. He leaned forward and planted his hands on either side of the other man’s head. Sebastian began to scoot back, but stopped and returned Moriarty’s gaze.  
“You’re wicked, and god have I missed it.” He surged forward and pressed his lips to Moriarty’s.

 

*******************************************

“What news do you have for me?” The Master asked.  
“Mr. Westwood has made contact with Lord Moran.” Cutler replied.  
“Very well.” He waved a hand at the younger vampire, who turned and walked out of the room. The Master then turned to the Stregoi elders. “It’s time. Tomorrow we make our way to London, and so begins the last event in history.” Snow smiled, revealing a set of gruesome teeth. A murmur of agreement passed amongst the elder Stregoi. 

 

CHAPTER 6 

“Now what?” Sherlock asked.  
“We need to go to the jeweler down the street. We put in an order for something special a week ago. I got a call this morning saying that it was ready.” Salina replied.  
“An order?” Sherlock asked.  
“Yes, an order. You can stay outside and entertain John while we…” She gestured to the teens. “Go inside.” She said.  
“Why can’t I come?” Sherlock whined.  
“Because you always ruin a good surprise, Sherlock.” John replied.  
“Do not.” He pouted as John gave him a stern look. “Fine!” 

Stephanie took hold of Salina’s hand as the four teens entered the store. They proceeded to the register counter. The shop was empty, so they rang the little silver bell on the counter.  
“Oh, hello.” An elderly woman said, poking her head out from the back room. “You must be Miss Holmes. Oh, and you brought friends.” The older woman clapped her hands together, smiling sweetly as she entered the room.  
“Yes. I would….We would like to see the order, please.” Salina replied.  
“Yes, of course. I have it right here, sweetie.” She bent down and retrieved two small boxes from beneath the counter. She placed each box on the counter as she opened them.

“Wow.” Marcus said, stunned.  
“Are they to your liking?” The older woman asked.  
“They couldn’t be more perfect.” Stephanie replied, squeezing Salina’s hand.  
“And they were enchanted as I requested?” Salina asked.  
“Down to the very last specification.” The older woman replied.

Marcus picked up the ring intended for his father as Salina inspected Mycroft’s. Greg’s ring was a silver band with a dragon encircling it and a small ruby for the eye. Mycroft’s was also a silver band, but with a fox encircling it and a small diamond for the eye.  
“Why a ruby and a diamond?” Stephan asked.  
“The color of their shifted forms.” Salina and Stephanie answered.  
“Do you approve?” The older woman asked.  
“Indeed.” Salina replied.  
“Excellent! Is there anything else I can help you with?” she asked.  
“No, just these. Thank you.” Salina smiled as she closed the ring boxes. 

*****************************A Little while Later*******************************

“Wow. There is no way we’re going in this shop.” John said, looking at the rundown exterior and crumbling sign.  
“What is this place?” Sherlock asked.  
“Read the sign.” Stephan answered.  
“Alternative Lifestyles; I don’t get it.” Sherlock replied.  
“It’s a sex shop, Sherlock. They want to go into a sex shop.” John said, marginally horrified. 

 

“We’re not buying anything of that nature. I assure you.” Salina replied.  
“Then what are we doing here?” John asked.  
“Don’t ask stupid questions, John. She’s not going to give you an answer.” Sherlock scoffed. 

Stephan and Salina walked towards the door. Stephan opened the door and allowed Salina to enter.  
“Hey, what do you think you are doing?” John asked.  
“Don’t worry, we won’t be long.” The door slid closed behind them.  
“Well, guess we’ll just wait out here.” Stephanie said under her breath.

*******************************Inside the Shop**********************************

“You know they’re not going to stop asking questions.” Stephan said, as they walked towards the front counter. “Thank god this place doesn’t resemble anything like its exterior.”  
“That’s to keep the riffraff out.” The Goth girl behind the counter laughed. “But from what I can tell, you’re not that sort.” She smiled.  
“Correct. I am looking for….”Salina blushed.  
“It’s alright sweetie, we get first timers in here all the time.”  
“Oh, no. nothing like that…..I’m looking for a collar set.” Salina replied.  
“I think I’ll just take a look around.” Stephan said, blushing and walking off into the numerous shelves. 

“Collars, well we have lots of those. Anything in particular you were looking for?” The Goth asked.  
“A set that would allow myself and another to….”Salina trailed off.  
“You have a bond, but nothing sexual. You want a set that would allow you to stay connected. I think that we may have just the thing.” She smiled.  
“How?” Salina asked, confused.  
“I’m an empath, quite useful in this profession. Come with me and I’ll get you just what you’re looking for.” The Goth said, walking out from behind the counter. She moved to allow Salina to take hold of her arm before proceeding towards the back of the shop. At the very last row of shelves the Goth girl moved to the section dedicated to the products she had been talking about. 

“These have received some of the best reviews for non-sexual bond collars, and these…” She removed a strip of leather from the shelf before continuing. “These are the only leashes on the market that can lengthen and shrink at will; they become imbued with the psychic impression of the owner or owners. Dragons especially favor these leashes for flying together, with other shifters, or even humans. I think that a young one, with no sight such as yourself, may find this useful whilst flying.” She explained further. “They also create and strengthen the bond between the two parties whilst they are wearing their collars. Is this what you wanted?” She asked, handing the leash to Salina. The leather was smooth and soft to the touch.

“Yes. I think this is exactly what I had been researching. One question though, is black the only color the collars come in?”  
“Oh, no. The collars will also connect with the wearer, and at such time as it is fastened into place it will change color when the psychic imprint is made.” The Goth girl replied.  
“Good to know. I’ll take a ladies set and a man’s set….actually make that three men’s sets.” Salina said running her hands over the leather of the leash.  
“Three men’s….Gifts then?” She smiled, as Salina blushed slightly.

 

“Yes.” Salina didn’t elaborate.  
“Shall have those boxed up and gift wrapped for you?”  
“Please. One Blue, Green, and Purple…if you have those colors.” Salina replied.  
“Of course. And for yourself?” She asked, gathering the collars and leashes together to take up to the counter.  
“Pink.” Salina replied holding out the leash in her hand.

**

Stephan had been wandering the shelves until he found what he was looking for.  
“Any brand in particular?” A young Goth boy asked, leaning against one of the shelves. Stephan blushed.  
“No, thanks.” Stephan replied.  
“You sure, mate?” He smiled widely.  
“Yes, I’m sure.”  
“Very well, you need anything I’ll be up front.” He turned and walked away.  
“Creep.” Stephan mumbled under his breath. He turned his attention back to the shelves in front of him.

 

*****************************************Outside**************************************

The door to the shop opened, Salina carried a large unmarked black bag and Stephan a small one.  
“What in god’s name did you buy?” Sherlock asked.  
“I don’t think you really want to know the answer to that question.” John said, with a pointed look.  
Salina just smiled. Stephan blushed deeply, avoiding his boyfriend’s eyes.  
“Well then, I think we’re done for the day, don’t you?” Stephanie held up the multiple bags in her hands and looked at Salina and Stephan.  
“Yes.” The boy whispered, slightly embarrassed.  
“Finally!” John exclaimed in a very ‘Sherlock’ manner.

 

CHAPTER 7

“I think somebody enjoyed having the cottage to themselves all afternoon.” Stephanie smiled as she and the others entered the cottage. Mycroft and Greg were sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea and trading chaste kisses.  
“Oh, for the love of….” Sherlock made a gagging noise as he looked between Greg and Mycroft. “You two disgust me.” He said, walking out of the kitchen and upstairs to his room.  
“What was that about?” John asked. Mycroft and Greg shared a look before turning back to John. “You know what, I don’t want to know.” He said before turning to follow Sherlock.  
“I think he saw more than he ever wanted to.” Marcus laughed. 

“Did everything go well today?” Greg asked, his arm still around Mycroft’s shoulder.  
“Fine.” Marcus replied pulling his boyfriend close.  
“Good, that’s good.” Mycroft replied.

“I think I’m going to take a nap.” Salina piped up.  
“I’ll come with you.” Stephanie offered still holding the bags.  
“No!...I mean….I need some time alone.” Salina tried to explain as she took her shopping bags from Stephanie.  
“Alright.” Stephanie frowned as she gave over the bags. Salina gave her a weak smile before turning and leaving the kitchen. She held on tightly to the banister of the stairs; taking each step with precision and care. 

“What was that all about?” Greg asked looking at Mycroft with a frown.  
“I shall talk to her.” Mycroft replied, with one last chaste kiss to Greg’s lips, before standing and leaving the room.

**************************Upstairs********************************************

Mycroft stopped outside Salina and Stephanie’s room and knocked on the door. “Salina?”  
“Come in.” Salina answered. Mycroft walked in and closed the door behind him. She looked up from the many boxes spread out on the bed. She shut the lid of the box and slid it behind some of the others. 

“Am I intruding?” He asked, moving closer.  
“No.” She replied in a hushed tone. He moved to stand in front of her.  
“Is there something wrong?” Mycroft asked.  
“No. I just felt like being alone. I feel a little overwhelmed being around people all day long all the time.”  
“Cabin fever?” He asked, a touch amused. He was also feeling a bit closed-in since this whole thing started.  
“A bit, yes.” She replied.

“Are you sure that’s all it is?” He asked, leaning over to pull the pink package out. He flipped open the lid. His eyebrows rose in surprise.  
“It’s not what you think.” She said, feeling through the packaging and picking up one of the collars.  
“Bonding collars; I am curious why you would….ah. For you and Stephanie.”  
“I was doing some research, with Anthea’s help, and I thought this would help to strengthen the bond between Stephanie and me.” She said, placing the collar back into the pink box.  
“This is the conclusion you came to. I am not sure this is….” Salina interrupted him.  
“They’re non-sexual bonding collars, made specifically for soulmates. There is nothing inappropriate going on between the two of us.”  
“I never believed there was. These collars are quite new to the market?” He asked.

“They’ve been around for a while. I promise that I have done thorough research.” She answered.  
“Very well, then that is the end of it.” Mycroft pulled Salina into his arms. “Just promise me that you will not go into a sex shop ever again. It’s not proper for someone of your status to be seen there. If you need something ask Anthea to get it for you. No questions will be asked.”  
“Not that I will ever have the need to do so, but I will do as you suggested.” Salina replied, hugging him back. Mycroft kissed the top of her head. She hugged him tighter before stepping back. 

**********************************MUMMY’S PARTY***********  
“I cannot believe you let mummy talk you into this.” Sherlock pouted, fidgeting relentlessly in his tux.  
“I didn’t really have a choice. Would you rather have had the party at Baker Street, where she would be fussing incessantly?” Mycroft asked.  
“She’s fussing now!” He whined.  
“Not over us.” The elder brother smiled.  
“Good point.” The younger Holmes replied. “I’ve never seen her so happy.” He nodded towards the group of teens near the Steinway piano.

“Is it horrible of me to hope she never remembers?” Mycroft asked.  
“I believe Salina’s words were ‘I don’t want to remember’; besides, you told her the truth and she hasn’t left yet.”  
“I suppose you’re rig…” 

“There you two are. Playing hide and seek, are we?” Their father asked, clasping a hand on each of their shoulders. “Your mother wants to do the toasts now, and to wait until morning to open presents.” He smiled, steering his sons toward the party.  
“Oh, boys. Sit here, next to each other.” Mrs. Holmes pointed to the sofa that John and Greg were occupying. The two scooted over to make room for the two brothers.  
“Now who would like to make the first toast?” Mummy asked. The room fell silent. “Don’t be shy.”

Salina carefully moved to the front of the room to stand next to Mrs. Holmes. “I would like to say something.”  
“Good. Stand right here.” She nudged Salina with one hand to stand in front of her. She then stepped back next to her husband, shifting little Amilia in her arms.  
“Firstly, I would like to thank everyone for their kindness and patience over the last few months. I know it hasn’t been easy for anyone.” She paused.  
“Oh, Sweetie.” Mrs. Holmes cooed.  
“Secondly, I would like to…” She struggled to find the right words. Greg elbowed Mycroft. 

The elder Homes brother moved to stand next to his daughter. He took her hand and kissed it before leaning closer to whisper to her. “I’m right here. I will never leave you again.”

She turned to him, squeezing the hand in hers. “I forgive you. I still have little memory of my childhood, but these last few months have shown me that I don’t need to. I have all I need in this room right now, and it is all I will ever need. I love you…Father.” 

 

She finished, tears of happiness flowing down her cheeks. Mycroft pulled her into a tight hug. Greg stood and hugged them both. The other teens did the same. Feeling left out, Sherlock managed to wedge himself into the middle. Amilia giggled and hugged Mrs. Holmes as tight as her little arms would allow. John smiled as Greg pulled him into the group hug.

“Merry Christmas, my love.” Mr. Holmes smiled, and placed a kiss on his wife’s cheek. 

******************************Christmas Morning*************************

Mycroft, Sherlock, John, and Greg entered the kitchen early the next morning.  
“Morning, boys.” Mummy Homes smiled, and gave each of them a kiss on the cheek as they sat down at the kitchen table.  
“Morning.” They mumbled sleepily.  
“The kiddos still sleeping?” Greg asked, reaching for the coffee that had been placed in front of him.  
“They stayed up playing games or something.” Mummy replied.

“Knew we shouldn’t have let Anthea get them that gaming system.” Greg chuckled, poking Mycroft in the side.  
“Now you’re just encouraging stupidity.” Sherlock mumbled.  
“They’re teenagers, they should have fun.” Mummy said. She turned her attention to the door and smiled widely. 

“Somebody was a little cranky and wanted attention.” Mr. Holmes said, bouncing the baby girl up and down in his arms. She giggled happily, tugging at his bowtie.  
“Aw.” Mummy cooed as she took the baby from her husband’s arms. Amilia gave a little frown and kept making grasping motions with her hands. Mr. and Mrs. Holmes shared a knowing smile. She laughed when her husband took off his bowtie and handed it to little Amilia. He then turned to go upstairs to find another.  
“That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it, little one?” Mummy Holmes cooed, placing a kiss on the baby’s head. 

“Bowties are cool.” Greg quoted. John burst out laughing, and Mycroft smiled at his lover.  
“I don’t get it.” Sherlock frowned.  
“It’s a Dr. Who joke.” John explained.  
“I still don’t get it. What is a Dr. Who, and why does Mycroft understand what you’re all going on about?” He whined.

“It’s a T.V. program.” Mycroft replied.  
“T.V. program! Since when do you watch T.V.?” He exclaimed.  
“Where have you been the last couple of months?” Greg laughed.  
“Is Amilia too much for you, Mrs. Holmes?” John asked, trying to change the subject.

 

“Oh, she’s no bother, dear. I am so enjoying having a little one to look after.” She smiled before giving her eldest a pointed look.  
“Ha!” Sherlock snickered.  
“Those who live in glass houses should avoid throwing stones.” Mycroft sneered back.  
“I agree. Just because John has had a child, doesn’t mean you’re off the hook.” Mummy replied. Sherlock paled. 

“Don’t worry Sherlock, Amilia will placate her for now.” John smiled, placing a hand on the younger Holmes’ arm.  
“Aww. Look at all the family bonding in here.” Stephanie said, leaning against the doorway, the other teens standing behind her with large smiles on their faces. 

“Morning, children.” Mr. Holmes said cheerfully, as he slipped by the teens.  
“Morning, ah…what are we supposed to…ah?” Marcus asked.  
“You may call me anything but Mrs. Holmes.” Mummy replied.  
“Would Gran be appropriate?” Stephanie asked. 

“Oh, of course you can.” She said happily.  
“Oh, Lord.” Mycroft mumbled. Greg leaned over and kissed his cheek.  
“Were getting old, love.” He answered.  
“Getting! Have you looked in the mirror lately, Lestrade?” Sherlock sneered.  
“He has no need to look in the mirror, Gregory always looks handsome.” Mycroft smiled, taking Greg’s hand in his. 

“You two are disgusting!” Sherlock made a gagging noise.  
“Knock it off.” John said, squeezing his arm.  
“I really hate to interrupt, but may I have some tea?” Salina asked, from Stephanie’s side.  
“Certainly, my dear. Why don’t you have a seat between Greg and your father?” Mummy replied softly. 

She fetched a spare cup and saucer from the counter and placed it on the table next to Greg. Mycroft slid to his right on the bench seat, and Greg stood to help Salina sit down before sitting once more. Greg placed the empty cup in front of her and Mycroft poured the tea that had been placed on the table. 

“There you go. It’s hot so try not to burn yourself.” Mycroft said.  
“Thank you.” She pulled the cup closer by the saucer and waited for it to cool.  
“How about the rest of you Kiddos? Would you like anything?” Mummy Holmes asked.  
“Be careful, those two can eat the entirety of the fridge and pantry in a day.” Sherlock nodded at Marcus and Stephan.  
“Quiet you.” Mummy shushed.  
“Maybe some pastries and tea. If that’s not too much to ask?” Marcus inquired awkwardly. 

“My baking woke you?” She smiled. “Take what you like; but don’t forget to eat some fruit too. Milk and juice in the fridge.”  
“Great. Thanks…um….Gran.” Marcus replied. The three teens made their way across the kitchen and fixed themselves breakfast. 

“Did you want to eat in here, or should we move to the living room?” Mr. Holmes asked his wife upon reentering the room.  
“I think that’s a wonderful idea, dear. We can all sit and open presents whilst eating?” Amilia made a clapping motion, the bow tie still in her hand. 

“I have no objections. Gregory?” Mycroft looked at his lover.  
“You shall not have any complaints from me.” Greg smiled.  
“I think we better get moving, or these two won’t be able to contain their excitement.” John said, standing, mug of coffee in hand. 

He and Greg exchanged knowing looks. Stephanie, Marcus and Stephan preceded everyone into the living room. Once everyone else had made up a plate of food they also moved to take up residence in the living room. The teens sat on the floor, in a semi-circle. Greg, John, and the two Holmes brothers sat on the sofa. Mr. and Mrs. Holmes sat in the arm chairs on either side of the sofa. 

Marcus was closest to the tree. To his left were Stephan and Mr. Holmes. Stephanie sat at the other end of the sofa, Salina next to her, nearest to Mycroft. Marcus began distributing the presents from underneath the tree. John held onto the presents for Amilia, who was still wrapped in Mummy’s loving arms. When everyone had their individual piles of gifts, Mummy gave the okay to begin. Everyone started with their own monogramed stockings that Mrs. Holmes had made.

 

CHAPTER 8

“Ah, London. How I have missed you.” The Master took a deep breath, closing his eyes.  
“Sir?” Moran asked. The Master opened his eyes and looked at the man in front of him.  
“Take us to the Manor.” The Master replied.  
“Sir.” Moran bowed. He then turned, leading the vampires off the tarmac and towards several black cars, where a young burly werewolf and his crew were waiting for their orders.  
“Milo, I am pleased to see you again. Been recruiting, have we?” The Master sneered.

“We wanted to be ready…..For what happens next.” Milo replied with a knowing grin. He moved to open the back door of the first black car. “Sir.” Milo stepped aside as The Master climbed into the car. He then got into the front seat with the driver. The others did the same. 

 

PART IV

CHAPTER 1

{Authors Note: Upon their return to London, Sherlock and John decide to stay at Mycroft’s, to ensure Salina’s safety.}

 

{London}  
The room was dark and cold. Faint whispers of her captor’s conversation could be heard from outside the door. They mentioned something about The Master and his plans, but that was all she managed to make out. The door opened and the room was suddenly filled with light. A tall imposing figure stood in the blinding light at the doorway.

“Salina Elizabeth Nicolai Holmes Scarletti.” The voice sounded familiar to her, but she could not remember to whom it belonged.  
“That’s my name; best use it with its proper title.” She replied with a hint of sarcasm and defiance.  
“Oh, I do apologize. Princess Salina Elizabeth Nicolai Holmes Scarletti.” The voice returned her sarcasm.  
“Still can’t get it right. Fine I’ll spare you the embarrassment of a third try. Salina Elizabeth Nicolai Holmes Scarletti, Princess of Vampires. See how simple that….” A loud crack sounded through the room. There was a sharp sting in her cheek and lip. 

“Your father should have taught you to hold your tongue.” Another voice hissed. She looked at him with defiance and fire in her eyes as she spat the blood from her split lip on the floor. The second man raised his hand to strike her again.  
“And you should not lay another hand on her on such a manner whilst she is our guest.” The tall figure replied pulling the other man from the room. The second man scurried from sight as the taller man closed the door. “My apologies, Princess.” He gave a slight bow before coming closer.  
“What do you want?” She asked.  
“Let’s just say that we share a mutual interest.” The tall man replied.

“And what would that be?” She raised an eyebrow, regarding the shadowed figure with curiosity.  
“For you to remain as Princess, to see the continuation of your line, as well as the prosperity of all vampires.” He stated bluntly.  
“I have a feeling that you’re not telling me everything. What are you planning?” She asked. He chuckled.  
“Smart girl. Yes, there is more.” He paused and walked into the light, a gruesome smile spread over his features. 

“You…How….” Salina shook her head and blinked rapidly, convinced that the image before her was a trick of the mind.  
“No, you’re not imagining things.” He confirmed.  
“Your face!” She gasped.  
“Indeed.” His smile widened. He momentarily closed his eyes; and when he opened them again they were black as pitch.  
“You….You’re Mr. Snow!” She exclaimed. The world around her swam into darkness. 

 

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!” Salina jolted upright in bead, screaming. Hands grabbed at her arms. She scratched and tried to fight them off.  
“Salina! It’s ok. You’re safe. It was just a nightmare. He can’t hurt you anymore.” It was Stephanie; she kept a firm grip and managed to wrestle the other girl into a tight embrace. She made soft shushing noises to try and calm Salina. 

“What the bloody hell is going on?” Greg asked from the door, both he and John had their guns drawn.  
“I don’t know. I was in a dead sleep when I heard her start to scream. I think she was having a nightmare.”  
“Sounded more like somebody was being murdered.” John replied.  
“Gregory?” Mycroft called from the hallway. Greg turned and motioned for the two brothers to come forward. Salina was rocking back and forth in Stephanie’s arms, silent tears rolling down her face as Sherlock and Mycroft entered the room. Mycroft sat on the edge of the bed while Sherlock remained standing beside him.  
“Salina?” The elder Holmes asked. 

When he received no reply Stephanie pulled the hair out of the frightened girl’s face and wiped at her tears. Mycroft reached for Salina’s hand as she raised her head from between her knees. She looked at him with wide eyes. She let out a shrill scream of terror, shoving Stephanie across the bed and onto the floor opposite where she now stood. 

Greg moved to his daughter’s side immediately, while John stayed at the door, unsure of what to do. Salina scrambled backwards until her back hit the wall. When Mycroft went to stand and move towards her, he was halted by a secure grip on his upper arm. He looked behind him to see Sherlock shaking his head. The elder Holmes returned his attention back to the terrified girl in front of him. Salina had her hands up in defense, a bright purple ball of fire held at the ready. 

“Stay back. I will use this if I have to.” The flame in her hand grew in size and brightness.  
“Salina. Please tell us what is wrong.” Mycroft urged.  
“Your face.” She cried. Sherlock snorted before he was elbowed in the ribs. Sherlock looked to his left and found that John had moved forward, his gun still at the ready. Stephan and Marcus stood behind him.  
“What about his face?” John asked.  
“It’s the same as that monster’s!” Salina replied as more tears poured from her face.  
“What is she going on about?” Sherlock hissed at his brother. 

“He…He tried to….He wanted me to join him.” She hiccupped. “I refused to be his pawn, that’s when he sent me to….”  
“Who? Who sent you to…”  
“Mr. Snow!” The ball of flame in her hand extinguished and she crumpled to the floor. She drew her knees to her chest; her wings popped out and curled around her shaking form.  
“Who is Mr. Snow?” John asked.

“I think I have an idea.” Sherlock replied, ignoring the question. He slid onto his knees and slowly crawled towards Salina as not to scare her. Mycroft inhaled sharply; he was seething with anger and trepidation. Sherlock slowly shifted to his small dragon form, leaving his robe behind on the floor, and crawled his way past her wings to sit atop her knees. He nudged her face gently with his nose. She raised her head, and Sherlock stuck his tongue out, flicking it over her face. He then moved to her shoulder and nudged her cheek in a playful and hopefully comforting manner. “Tell me who hurt you. Tell me how to fix it.” Sherlock whispered.  
“I don’t know his real name.” She paused. “And you can’t fix it.”  
“Describe him for me.” Sherlock replied softly.  
“Medium height. He was thin and lean. I think they called him Mr. Westwood, and his accomplice was…I…I can’t…think.” Salina replied.  
“Mr. Westwood? Are you sure that’s what they called him?” John asked.  
“Yes, why?” She looked in John’s direction.  
“Sherlock, isn’t Westwood the designer label that….that you know who wears?” 

“What are you talking about, John?” Greg asked, confused.  
“That night at the pool, when I had a bomb strapped to my chest. He was so concerned that I had wrinkled his suit when I had grabbed him.” John explained.  
“You mean Moriarty.” Mycroft hissed.  
“Does that name sound familiar, Salina?” Sherlock asked.  
“No. but the other man; Mr. Westwood called him Tiger. His name was similar. Mor… something… Anny…or something. I don’t remember.” She said shaking her head. 

“Moran. Sebastian Moran.” Sherlock replied, looking up at his brother.  
“I shall have Anthea locate him immediately.” The elder Holmes turned and swiftly left the room.  
“Mycroft!” Greg called after him, but the man ignored him.  
“Let him go.” Greg turned to look at John. “He’s a Holmes, and there is no stopping them when they get an idea set in their heads. Though I’m sure yours has is much better at impulse control than this one.” He smiled, tilting his head in Sherlock’s direction. 

“Please refrain from talking about me as if I am not present.” Sherlock leaped off Salina’s shoulder, crawled back to his discarded robe, and shifted back into human form. He tied the material securely before holding out a hand for Salina to take. She shook her head and once again buried it in her knees. Sherlock dropped his hand, defeated. 

Greg rounded the bed and crouched down beside her. He whispered something in her ear as he gently pet her hair. She looked up at him, his chocolate eyes soft and full of affection. He grasped her hand and unhurriedly pulled her to a standing position. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tight. He hugged her and placed a kiss on the top of her head.

She had been through so much in the last year, and they still didn’t know every detail. Greg felt like she was one of his own now, and he protected his own. As a sense of security washed away the fear, her wings retracted into her shoulder blades. After a moment Greg stepped back and wiped the tears from her face with his thumb. 

“Alright?” Greg asked.  
“Yes. Thank you.” She gave him a warm halfhearted smile. He returned her smile and let go. He turned to the other teens and made a come here motion with his hand. They approached cautiously, before Stephanie shot forward and glued herself to Salina, wrapping arms around her like an octopus. With less extreme enthusiasm, Marcus and Stephan hugged her as well. 

Feeling left out, Sherlock shifted back into small dragon form and wedged into the middle of the teens’ huddle. Greg and John shared an amused smile. Mycroft walked back into the room on his mobile and stopped mid-sentence as he observed the scene unfolding before him. He blinked rapidly as if he didn’t understand what he was seeing, and his grip on the mobile went slack, sending it tumbling to the floor. Greg and John turned around sharply at the sound.

“My?” Greg looked at him with concern.  
“Mr. Holmes?...Mr. Holmes?...” The mobile squawked. Mycroft shook his head and bent to retrieve the mobile from the floor.  
“My apologies, Anthea…..No everything is fine, just a little shock is all. Nothing to worry about…..Yes, thank you my dear.” He hung up and slipped the mobile into the pocket of his robe. “Fine, Gregory.” He gave a small smile. Then he directed his attention to the huddle adjacent to where he stood in the doorway. “Am I missing something?” He asked.  
“Not a thing.” Greg replied with a large grin.

{Author’s note: with the slow return of her memories in the form of dreams and or nightmares, Salina also gains back her sight…that’s just how the curse Moriarty put on her works. –Sorry for any confusion.}

 

CHAPTER 2

The early morning was cold and the streets were covered in rolling fog. The lights of the large manor had little golden halos around their edges. A dim lamp light could be seen through the partition of the curtains in the front parlor, while the rest of the manor was dark and silent. In the main bedroom upstairs, however, someone or something was slowly stirring. 

Thick curtains covered the windows, allowing only the smallest measure of light to spill across the floor. The bed was occupied by a tall pale figure of a man. His chest remained still and exhibited no signs of life; that is, until his eyes snapped open. A small sneer appeared on his face.

“Found you, Princess.” He whispered to the dark, pulling the sheet back from his body. Sitting up, he placed his feet on the floor and turned on the bed side lamp. His eyes closed momentarily, unused to the light now flooding the room. He opened them again slowly so his irises had the opportunity to adjust to the blinding sensation. There was a hesitant knock on the door. 

“Master?” It was Cutler. “Are you awake, Sir?” He asked nervously. Snow sighed heavily.  
“Yes, Cutler. You may now proceed with you duties.” Snow stood up and stretched the tiredness from his body.  
“Sir. Lord Moran is here to see you. He says that it’s important.”  
“Very well.” Came Snow’s reply. There was a moment of silence, but he did not hear Cutler retreat from the door. “Is there something else you require, Cutler?” Snow inquired as he moved to the door. He was about to open it when the young vampire gave his reply.

“Your wardrobe has returned from dry-cleaning, Sir.” Snow’s hand dropped from the door knob; he smiled as a wicked idea entered his mind. He stepped back from the door and turned back towards the bed.  
“Enter.” He replied. The door opened quietly and the young vampire entered, arms full of the elder vampire’s freshly cleaned/pressed clothing. He kicked the door closed with the heel of his shoe and walked over to where Snow was standing. Cutler took in his Master’s unclothed state, blushing before averting his eyes. He made his way to the closet on the other side of the room to put the garments away in their proper place. Cutler knew that if anything was out of place he was in for a beating. Once the suits, shirts, and such were in proper place, he removed the plastic, which was balled up and thrown into the bin next to the bed. Cutler hadn’t seen or felt his Master move until the man was standing right behind him. Snow had one of his hands around the younger vampire’s neck and his lips next to his ear. 

“You will set my clothing out for the day, and then I will feed. Understood?” He smiled.  
“Yes, Sir. Should I have something brought up… or…?” He hesitated.  
“Any of Moran’s servants shall do. Have them brought up….You will stay until I have finished feeding, then you will dispose of the body.” Snow let go and walked into the en-suite bathroom closing the door behind him. 

Cutler shook with fear and hate. He wasn’t sure what he had done to anger his Master, but watching him feed was almost worse than taking a beating. Snow was a monster; he would seduce and feed on humans. It almost always ended in death; very rarely did it result in a fledgling vampire like himself. 

Which is why the majority of the vampire community had taken to following the Princess’s new law forbidding both Moroi and Stregoi from feeding on humans or turning them without permission; instead they were to drink synthetic plasma produced and distributed by their local governments. Not all vampires agreed with the Princess’s views, and rebelled by joining The Master’s cause. 

 

CHAPTER 3

{London-Undisclosed Location: MI-6 Operations}

Mary sat silently in the interview room. She had refused to talk to anyone but John and Sherlock. Mycroft had reluctantly agreed to allow the meeting to take place, his only stipulation being that she had her magic bound. This would prevent any harm coming to Sherlock and his blogger. Mary shrugged and allowed Mycroft’s men to bind her magic. Once satisfied that she was no longer a danger to them, John and Sherlock entered the room. 

“John. Sherlock.” She said curtly.  
“Mary.” They replied.  
“How can I help you? I believe that I have already told Mycroft that I will not talk.”  
“Things have changed since then. There are lives at stake.” John replied.  
“Sounds like things are pretty much the same, to me.” She shrugged.  
“Mary…” John started.

“Moriarty is a vampire.” Sherlock interrupted. Mary looked at him sharply.  
“Yes.”  
“He is working with Mr. Snow.” Sherlock stated.  
“He works for the highest bidder.” She replied.  
“How long has he been helping Snow?” Sherlock asked. She didn’t answer. 

“Mary, Please. Someone of great importance is going to die.” John implored.  
“Isn’t there always, John?”  
“My niece is going to die if you don’t start cooperating.” Sherlock hissed.  
“Niece….What are you going on about, Sherlock?” Mary asked confused.  
“My niece is Salina Scarletti. She….”  
“You’re telling me that your brother had a child with the Prince of Vampires?” She looked shocked and amused. 

“Yes. Now would you please….”  
“The Ice man? Who would have thought.” She laughed. “Why should I help you, Sherlock?” she asked.  
“She’s just a girl, Mary. A girl who grew up without one father and hating the other for abandoning her….”  
“Don’t try for sentiment, Sherlock. We all know you Holmes boys don’t feel.”  
“That’s not true!” John yelled, standing so fast that the chair he was sitting in screeched against the floor and back into the wall behind him. 

“Really?” She asked sarcastically. The door to John’s left opened and Mycroft walked in. He closed the door behind him and set John’s chair back on its legs. He then sat down, crossing one leg over the other and lacing his fingers together over one knee. The elder Holmes just sat there, looking at Mary, neither speaking a word. Mycroft broke the silence first.  
“My daughter means the world to me.” He stated flatly. 

“Anyone can say that, but actually meaning it is the key. We both know you are an impeccable liar.” She leaned back and crossed her arms.  
“I…” He stopped and cleared his throat before continuing, “I love my daughter with a ferocity that only a mother knows. I have killed to protect her and I will not hesitate to do so again. I would throw away the career I spent my whole life building if it would keep her from hating me.” He replied coldly. A look of surprise crossed Mary’s face as she took in what he had said. 

“I never would have thought you capable of such a range of emotion, Mr. Holmes.” She said with a warm smile.  
“Will you help us...Will you help me?” He asked. John looked at Sherlock, who was watching Mary closely.  
“I will, but I want something in return.” She replied.  
“I never expected anything less.” Mycroft replied smoothly.

“I want full immunity and protection no matter what happens.” She said simply.  
“Only when you have given us all of the information we require.” At this point he stood walking forward to the table and placing his palms flat on its surface. He leaned in and looked her squarely in the eye. “If she dies….So do you.” He threatened.  
“She won’t die.” Mary replied, meeting his gaze with a look just as fierce. 

“Good. Now, I require a full written account of everything you can tell me about Moriarty, Moran, and Snow.” A pad of paper slid across the table from where Sherlock was sitting; Mycroft then produced a pen. Mary took it and began writing. “Come to my office when she is finished.” Mycroft said, looking at Sherlock, “I have paperwork to start.” And with that he made his exit. 

 

CHAPTER 4  
{Mycroft’s Office-Undisclosed Location}

“Here it is.” Sherlock dropped multiple pads of paper on his brother’s desk. He then plopped down on the sofa next to the wall before promptly standing up again. “That is disgusting, Mycroft; having sex in an office. Anthea is right outside….” Sherlock cried. The elder Holmes only smirked in response.  
“Why do you think my staff is paid so well, Sherlock? Discretion is of the utmost importance to a man in my position.” His smile grew as he heard the gagging noises the younger Holmes was making.  
“God, that was a little too much information, Sherlock.” John choked.

“Indeed. Although, not quite as shocking as Mrs. Hudson’s accounts of walking in on the two of you going at it in the living room of 221B.” He said, putting his pen down and picking up the first pad of paper.  
“Must the two of you always do this?” John had gone pink at Mycroft’s words. Neither of the Holmes brothers responded. John just shook his head and threw his arms in the air. “I’m going to get some coffee and find Greg.” He didn’t even wait for a reply before exiting the room and slamming the door behind him. After a few minutes of silence, Mycroft spoke again.

“I hope seeing Mary did not cause him too much stress.”  
“God, Mycroft. You can be so stupid sometimes. Of course he was stressed. They were married, in love, and had a child together. You’ve seen the way Greg interacts with his ex-wife; and they hate each other.”  
“Yes. It is always a pleasure to see the adulteress.” He sneered, eyes locked to the papers in front of him. When Sherlock didn’t reply, Mycroft looked up, “Sherlock?” He eyed the younger Holmes with concern.

“I haven’t told him.” Sherlock whispered.  
“Haven’t told who, what?” Mycroft gave him a look of befuddlement.  
“John. He doesn’t know….That….” Sherlock had never had a problem telling people what he was thinking before, so why was he now.  
“Go on.” Sherlock had his full attention. 

“I’m so stupid…..i didn’t think. We were so wrapped up in things and I forgot to….And then with everything that’s been going on I didn’t realize that I hadn’t….Oh, God….what am I going to do?” Sherlock had started to shake and was on the verge of collapsing when Mycroft rounded the desk and pulled him towards the sofa. Sherlock didn’t make it; he fell to the floor at his brother’s feet. Mycroft kneeled down next to him.  
“What is it?” He asked, even though he was sure of the answer. Sherlock looked up with glassy eyes.  
“I’m…I’m… preg…nant.” Sherlock cried, “We had been so careful, until things started getting increasingly more hectic.”

“How long have the two of you…?” Mycroft grimaced at his own question; he really didn’t need to know.  
“Since the divorce went through. We were so careful, and then when we were at the farm….” Sherlock looked at Mycroft with an expression he hadn’t seen since they were children: fear. “What if John thinks I’m trying to trap him?”  
“He would not risk losing you a second time.” Mycroft replied, running a hand through his brother’s hair. Neither of them had heard the door open or see the two figures enter.

“I’m sure as hell not going to leave!” John said. Both brothers looked up to find their mates standing just inside the door, which Greg promptly shut.  
“You’re not?” Sherlock asked, shifting his gaze between his brother and John.  
“Never.” John moved to Sherlock’s side and pulled him into a tight hug, “I’ll never let you go again.” He whispered. The elder Holmes stood to greet his own mate. 

 

CHAPTER 5

{Moran Manor-Later in the morning}

Once Snow had finished feeding and dressed in one of his newly pressed suits, he made his way downstairs to the study where Lord Moran was waiting for him.

“You are looking most refreshed this evening, Sir.” The man bowed as Snow entered the room.  
“Yes. I am afraid that you will be needing a new maid.” He replied with a brusque laugh.  
“They’re mostly useless anyways.” Moran replied, offering his master a place to sit.  
“You have been a most accommodating and gracious host, Moran.” He sat in the chair opposite. 

“The Princess has returned to England. Apparently, Mr. Holmes has taken in Lord Moretti’s son. They returned for the funeral a few weeks ago and have since been on holiday at Holmes Manor. ” Moran explained.  
“I have been hearing the most interesting rumors since we arrived. One including a copper from NSY and his children having taken up residence with Mr. Holmes.” He commented stonily.  
“True. Mr. Holmes and Greg Lestrade of NSY have been together for a little over two years now. They seem quite happy together. According to my sources, Lestrade’s son and young Lord Moretti are an item, and the Princess seems rather taken with Lestrade’s daughter.” Moran reported.

“The young shifter has enabled the Princess to have use of her sight again.” Moriarty said, stepping from the shadows.  
“Your magic seems to have worn off again, boy.” Snow hissed.  
“Not at all, Master. The bond between her and the little shifter is strong enough that she has use of her sight when they’re close, but apart she is quite blind. The curse is just as strong as it was when I put it on her the first time, before you asked me to take it off.” Moriarty replied simply.  
“Don’t get smart with me, boy. You are an asset, but do not think that for one minute that I would hesitate to have you and your pet killed.” Snow replied callously. He then turned his attention back to his host, “Have you arranged everything as I asked?”

“Yes, Sir.” Moran reached into the inner pocket of his suit and produced an identification card.  
“Excellent; though this does not pardon your previous foul up.” Snow said, taking the ID card and standing to leave.  
“I shall endeavor to do all I can to fix that transgression.” Moran stood and bowed once more.  
“Right. Shall we play now, Pet?” Moriarty asked with a wicked grin. Moran looked to The Master.  
“Do what you will, as long as things are ready.” Snow exited, leaving the two to their games. 

 

CHAPTER 6

{Mycroft’s Office-Undisclosed Location}

“Gregory.” Mycroft said, taking the man’s hand.  
“Besides, Mycroft would probably have me killed if I even looked like I was considering leaving.” John smiled and let out a small laugh.  
“I think he would have to beat the kids to it.” Greg laughed, placing a kiss on his lover’s cheek.  
“I’m keeping it.” Sherlock said flatly.  
“Of course you are….I mean we are. I would never ask you to….to not.” John caressed the man’s cheek. Sherlock leaned into the touch and made a purring noise. Greg looked from the pair to his lover.

“How come I’ve never heard you make that noise when you’re happy?” Greg asked.  
“Only expectant dragons make that noise.” Mycroft replied.  
“Oh. Um…I.” Greg stuttered, mentally berating himself for even asking. Mycroft leaned into him and kissed his lips.  
“You will.” He whispered quietly into Greg’s ear as he nibbled the lobe.  
“You’re…?” There was a sharp intake of breath from the older man.  
“Not currently, but I believe that I may be amiable to try, when this nasty business with Snow is sorted.” He whispered, kissing his way down Greg’s neck before stepping back.  
“Really?” Greg let out the breath he had been holding and looked into his lover’s eyes. “You know I would never…” Mycroft’s eyes were full of affection and longing. He no longer saw the pain or fear that was there so many months ago. 

“Will you two stop fornicating in my presence!” Sherlock scoffed, standing but still clinging to John.  
“Good to know you’re back to normal.” Greg laughed, which produced a small chuckle from Mycroft.  
The loud sound of applause broke out in the room. The four men turned to see the teens standing in the doorway clapping enthusiastically and cheering.  
“You four are so cute.” Stephanie cooed.  
“I will murder you if you ever say that again.” Sherlock hissed, clutching onto John tighter.

“You brought them here?” Mycroft raised an eyebrow at Greg.  
“Pockets!” Stephanie cried as she and the other teens moved further into the room.  
“What?” John looked confused.  
“Dad, M. look in your pockets.” Marcus insisted. John and Sherlock turned to look at the other couple. 

Mycroft reached into the pockets of his trousers, while Greg dug in his jacket. Both pulled out a small black velvet box. They looked back at the teens, who made a gesture to switch the boxes. They opened them together. Mycroft’s face went pale and his eyes wide. Greg turned pink and looked up at his lover. 

“My?” He asked when he realized the man had gone white as a sheet.  
“I…I don’t….”  
“It’s ok, My. They were just trying to do something romantic. We don’t have to if you’re…”  
“Yes.” Mycroft’s head snapped up.  
“You…You want …You want to?” Greg asked unsure if he correctly understood his lover.  
“Yes. Yes….I want to.” Mycroft replied, a single tear running down his cheek. Greg placed the box in his hands on the desk and took the one in his lover’s hands. He removed the ring, setting aside its box and taking Mycroft’s hand.  
He glanced back at the elder Holmes’ face, who nodded, before proceeding to slide the ring on the man’s finger. They exchanged a chaste kiss as Mycroft slid the other ring onto Greg’s finger. The two rings glowed for a brief second, the protection and fidelity magic taking hold. They shared another chaste kiss, and then returned their attention to the others in the room. There was someone missing.

“Where is Salina?” Mycroft asked. A quiet cough sounded from behind the desk. He turned to see Salina sitting in his chair.  
“How?” Greg asked.  
“Magic obviously. You didn’t think those rings could have gotten into your pockets without help, did you?” she smiled.  
“So it was your idea then?” Greg asked.

“Actually it was both of ours.” Stephanie came round the desk to stand next to Salina.  
“That’s what you were getting when you went into the jewelry store that day.” John smiled.  
“I told you I could keep a secret.” Sherlock pouted.  
“Shhh.” John replied.  
“You planned this, together.” Greg asked, taking hold of Mycroft’s hand.  
“Yes.” Stephanie replied.  
“I wanted you to be happy…..these last few months have been amazing….I would like to think that if I could remember everything…..that the other me would forgive you…. as I have.” Salina said. Mycroft let go of Greg’s hand to go round the desk and embrace his daughter.  
“Thank you.” Mycroft whispered into her hair, placing a kiss on the top of her head. 

 

CHAPTER 7

“Sir. I hate to break this up, but we have gone to critical alert.” Anthea appeared in to doorway.  
“What!?” Mycroft spun around to look at his assistant.  
“Sir.” She paused and took a deep breath, “The Prime Minister has been assassinated.” A chill spread through the room.

“When?” He asked.  
“Not very long ago.” She replied.  
“Very well, thank you. I shall….”  
“It was Snow. It was during the press conference.” Mycroft gave her a blank look, “You’re wanted for murdering the PM, Sir.” 

“Excuse me?” Mycroft raised an eyebrow in challenge.  
“He looks just like you.” Salina whispered. Mycroft’s blank look turned to trepidation in an instant.  
“That’s why she flipped out that night after the nightmare. Why didn’t you say anything?” Greg asked.  
“I thought…Sherlock had deduced it.” Her answer was so quiet that Greg had almost missed it. 

“Sir, we need to get all of you out of the building and to an unknown safe house.” Anthea urged.  
“Yes….good…..please arrange…” Mycroft was too flustered to give an answer.  
“I know of a place.” Sherlock interjected, ushering the assistant out of the office. John followed both of them out of the room. 

“What is going to happen now?” Stephanie asked.  
“We go to the safe house. You lot will stay there, and we will take care of Snow.” Greg replied.  
“He’ll come for me.” Salina sighed, “I can feel him, almost like a dull headache. He will know where we go.”  
“You must block him out, Salina.” Mycroft said turning back to her. Suddenly the room was filled with the loud noise of sirens.

“Time to go!” Sherlock said, ducking back into the room; he had an armload of guns.  
“Sherlock, what the hell!?” Greg exclaimed as he was handed a pistol. Mycroft opened one of the drawers of his desk and pulled out a specialized handgun. Greg took the one Sherlock had offered his brother. He handed it to Marcus, “You remember how to use one of these, just like I showed you. I hate that you…”  
“No time dad, we’ve got to get out of here.” Marcus said, patting Greg on the arm. He followed Sherlock out of the room. 

 

CHAPTER 8 

Anthea lead them through a maze of hallways and stairwells, towards the hidden emergency exit at the back of the building, where a car was to be waiting. They were about to go around another corner when a shot rang out; Anthea stopped, shoving everyone backwards.

“Come on out Holmes, we know you’re there. Don’t be a coward hiding behind a lady’s skirt!” One of the MI-6 agents called.  
“Not a chance in hell, Willson!” Anthea replied.  
“We were told to bring him in alive, A. Don’t make this a suicide by cop thing.” He rebutted. Just then two shots rang out. Footsteps echoed in the silence of the hallway. 

“John! Are you all right?”  
“Mary?” John moved forward and Anthea slammed him back against the wall.  
“How did you get out?”  
“The binding spell wore off. I heard the alarm and several of the guards talking about Mycroft murdering the PM.” She replied. Anthea turned to look at her boss. He nodded.  
“We’re coming out, lower your weapon!” Anthea called.  
“It’s done.” Came her reply.

Anthea slowly stuck her head around the corner to confirm, before moving around the corner with her gun aimed to kill. Mary held her empty hands up. On the ground were the two MI-6 agents; they had been shot point blank in the head. Anthea motioned that it was safe. 

“My god!” Greg gasped.  
“So much for that immunity.” Sherlock mumbled. John’s mouth hung open in shock.  
“We cannot afford to stand around.” Mycroft whispered harshly to his assistant.  
“Can we trust her not to shoot us?” Anthea asked.  
“I don’t think you have a choice.” Mary replied.  
“Pick up you gun.” Mycroft took a step closer to her, “Protect my family and I will see that you receive the crown’s protection.”  
“I can do that.” Mary smiled. “Follow Anthea and I’ll cover your rear.”

Anthea lead them down another hallway to the back stairs leading to the exit. More shots rang out from behind them. “Sir, the coast is clear.” Anthea called from the exit.  
“Go! I’ve got this.” Mary yelled, bracing herself against the wall and exchanging fire. Mycroft was the next one out the door, John was the last.

Outside was a large black SUV, the driver had the engine running. Greg made sure that the teens were loaded in first. He pushed Sherlock in before climbing in himself. Mycroft was shoved inside by Anthea, who then climbed into the front seat. John followed behind with Mary. They continued to lay down protective fire before scrambling to get into the back seat. As soon as they were loaded, the driver pulled away and sped down the back alley. Multiple agents ran out of the building and continued to fire at the vehicle. 

“Everyone ok back there?” the driver asked.  
“We’re good.” John breathed heavily.  
The back seat of the vehicle was shaped like the inside of a limo, which incidentally didn’t leave much room to move. The teens were huddled on the floor next to the adult’s feet. Sherlock eyed the front seat suspiciously.  
“Right. Take us to the safe house please.” Anthea said to the driver.  
“Of course.” The driver replied. 

“Um, Greg.” John gulped.  
“Yah?” He asked.  
“Didn’t we start with four teenagers?” He said nodding to the figures sitting on the floor.  
“Shit! Where’s Stephanie?” He yelled.

 

PART V  
CHAPTER 1

{Lord Moran’s Manor-The Study}

 

Classical music flowed softly through the room into which Cutler entered hesitantly.

“Is there some reason for your lurking about in the shadows?” Snow asked from his chair next to the fireplace.  
“It’s Holmes, Sir. The government thinks he’s the one who murdered the PM. MI-6 is on their way to his office to apprehend him.” He explained, shifting form foot to foot nervously.  
“That suits my plans, for now.” Snow scoffed.  
“I have also confirmed with Mr. Westwood and his pet; your men were successful in their infiltration of MI-6 and have received their orders. They are attempting to acquire the Princess and her little fox friend as we speak.”

“Let us hope that Lord Moran does not fail again.” Cutler continued to linger. “Was there something else?”  
“No.” He replied quietly.  
“Then be gone with you.” Snow waved a hand in dismissal. The young vampire scurried from the room.  
“Idiot, Isn’t he?” Moriarty asked from the chair opposite his master.  
“Indeed. It is difficult to find good help anymore.” Snow sighed. 

 

CHAPTER 2

They passed by row after row of cookie cutter houses, until they were deep into suburbia. This was the last place that anyone would look for a man like Mycroft. The driver pulled into the driveway of the last house on the block. When the garage door was closed securely behind them the driver turned off the engine. The two front doors of the SUV opened; the driver and Anthea moved to the back of the vehicle and opened the doors. 

“The safe house.” The driver announced with a beaming smile.  
“Irene Adler? But you’re dead?” John asked shocked.  
“Hello, John.” She purred.  
“Sherlock, what is going on?” Mycroft asked, stepping out of the back seat. 

“I saved her from a beheading.” Sherlock explained.  
“I can see that.” He said slighted.  
“Don’t fight, boys. We have more important things to be worrying about.” Irene turned and walked to the doors that lead inside the house. Anthea opened the door and turned on the lights. Everyone quietly followed. Immediately inside the door was the kitchen and dining room. The house was small in comparison to Mycroft’s flat; extremely small. Greg helped Mycroft, who looked as though he was about to faint, to sit at the dining room table. 

****************************

Later that evening, close to midnight, Greg and Mycroft sat at the kitchen table, the younger man trying to comfort his lover. 

“I don’t understand why she would stay behind?” Greg shook his head in disbelief.  
“I think I may know why.” Salina said quietly.  
“Why are you not in bed?” Mycroft asked, his voice heavy with concern.  
“I’m not a child! I’m blind, not stupid. So, stop treating me like I am!” Salina hissed.  
Mycroft looked at Greg before lowering his head in defeat. Greg walked over to where the teen was standing in the doorway of the kitchen. He put a hand on her shoulder. 

“I’m sorry Salina. I know how this must be upsetting you.” Greg offered softly.  
“No you don’t!” she pushed his hand away, “She has…..and he’s going to kill her.” Salina hissed. She managed to sense her way to the kitchen table and take the empty seat next to her father. She placed a small envelope before him.  
“What is this?” He asked quizzically, as he picked it up and turned it over in his hands. Snow’s seal, and it was broken.

“It’s the reason that she stayed behind.” Salina replied. Greg sat across from them. Mycroft slid the paper out of the envelope and unfolded it. A frown appeared on his face as he read the letter. Greg looked back and forth between father and daughter, to see if he could deduce the content of the letter. 

“When did this arrive?” Mycroft asked, handing Greg the letter.  
“I don’t know. I found it in my coat pocket when we arrived.” Salina replied.  
“My god! She’s gone to confront Snow, hasn’t she?” Greg gasped, looking up from the letter.  
“That is my thinking.” Mycroft assumed the thinking pose.  
“He will kill her.” Salina stated bluntly.  
“Contrary to what you lot might think, Stephanie is not stupid. She would not confront Snow without a plan.” Sherlock had appeared in the kitchen from the dark of the living room.  
“I agree.” The elder Holmes sighed.  
“Shall I make some tea and coffee, since I have a feeling that you two are going to start talking strategy?” Greg stood from the table.  
“Please. Darjeeling preferably.” Mycroft grasped the man’s hand and squeezed. It was a silent gesture that spoke volumes.

“Anything for you, sweetheart?”  
“Just tea for me, thanks.” The younger Holmes replied. Greg shook his head.  
“I was talking to Salina, Sherlock.” Greg chuckled. At least the man had been polite when he answered. The younger Holmes sat next to Salina’s left and across from his brother at the small table. Greg released Mycroft’s hand and entered the kitchen.  
“Tea is fine, thank you.” Salina replied. Greg felt a small sense of relief at her words; her anger having ebbed away for the moment. 

“I assume you have a plan for Stephanie’s rescue.” Sherlock mused, reaching for the letter.  
“It seems that you have forgotten that we are on the run. I do not have access to the resources I once did; I cannot make an army appear out of thin air, Sherlock.” Mycroft huffed.  
“What good is being the British Government, then?” Sherlock sneered.  
“Trust you to make jokes at a time like this.” Salina chided. 

“Christmas.” A yawn came from the living room.  
“John, what are you on about?” Sherlock asked.  
“The envelopes, she got it at Christmas. I remember, because she ran her hands over the seal and she insisted it was nothing.” John replied. 

 

CHAPTER 3 

{Moran Manor}

“Why would she want to be taken?” Moran asked.  
“She cares for the princess, and vice versa. That sentiment shall be the key to bringing her royal highness to us.” Moriarty sneered as they walked into the study. Snow was sitting in a chair near the fireplace. He made no move to acknowledge the presence of the two men as they entered the room. He held a glass of fresh blood in his hand; the red liquid glinted in the firelight as he spoke.

“It is advantageous to user her against the princess.” Snow agreed.  
“The fox girl is upstairs, Sir.” Cutler announced from the doorway.  
“Good.” Snow replied, waving a hand at him in dismissal. Cutler backed out of the room hastily.  
“She won’t turn against them.” Moriarty said.  
“I don’t need her to. She is simply our bait, to capture the Princess once more. Once Salina has given me her powers, the two of you may dispose of both girls however you like.” Snow replied, setting his glass down, and straightening his suit. 

“Until the Princess decides to grace us with her presence, I want the little fox to go unharmed.” He looked pointedly at Moriarty.  
“Understood, Master.”  
“Excellent…” Snow walked towards the door.

“Sir. How long should we wait for her to come to us?” Moran asked.  
“I imagine it shan’t be too long before she is able to sneak away from the rest of them. I would say that will only take a few days at the most.” Snow replied, nonchalantly, as he grasped the door handle.  
“What happens if she doesn’t come to you?” Moran asked as the elder vampire opened the door.  
“Then we shall send them all a message; starting with the cold dismembered body of her little fox friend.” Snow sneered, walking out of the room.

 

CHAPTER 4

{The Safe House}

 

The next morning, Anthea returned to the office to turn herself over to SIS and the government for questioning, while Irene went to check on the Holmes Parents. Mary also left, in order to get in touch with some of her old contacts. 

As the days passed Greg made an effort of not watching the news, whilst trying to keep himself otherwise occupied. The two Holmes brothers were becoming increasingly agitated, pacing the floors like caged animals. Salina and the boys spent most of their time upstairs in their room. They too were trying to keep busy, though after a few days of playing video games, they found their resolve diminishing. 

Greg was lying on the sofa with his eyes closed, listening to some sports commentator drone on and on. 

“I have to tell you, Greg, I don’t think I’ve ever been this irritated with Sherlock. All that pacing and muttering is driving me up the walls.” John sighed, sinking down into the adjacent chair.  
“I can’t stand this anymore.” Greg replied, hoisting himself up into a sitting position. He picked up the remote off the coffee table and handed it to John. “Watch what you want.” Greg left the living room. 

He walked through the house looking for the two brothers, only to find them in the garage smoking.  
“Mycroft, we need to talk.” Greg said entering the garage. Sherlock looked between the two older men before stamping out his cigarette in the ashtray they had brought with them.  
“I think I’ll go find John.” He replied, walking into the house closing the door behind him. Greg blocked the door with a chair, so they wouldn’t be interrupted. 

“There is no need to lock the door, Gregory.” Mycroft put out his cigarette as well, setting aside the ashtray.  
“I’d rather not have anyone walking in on this particular conversation.” Greg replied, moving closer to the man.  
“Oh? And why is…Oh!” Mycroft gasped as Greg dropped to his knees.  
“I need a distraction. Care to humor me?” He asked looking up into bright blue eyes.  
“Well…couldn’t we go upstairs?” Mycroft asked.  
“The kids are in their room, don’t want them hearing, do you?” Greg smirked.  
“I suppose not; but what about….”  
“Shed in the backyard.” Greg smirked.  
“How do you…”  
“Found them out there yesterday, when going to check the security cameras.” Greg cut him off. 

“Very well then…um…proceed.” Mycroft blushed.  
“Ever the gentleman.” Greg chuckled as he worked on the taller man’s zip, concentrating on the task at hand. When Greg had pulled out his lover’s cock, he was slightly disappointed to find it barely half-hard. He looked back up at his lover.  
“We don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable.”  
“Do not take my flaccid state as a sign of disinterest; I was not expecting…this type of conversation. “  
“Alright…I suppose I should tell you just what type of conversation I plan on having with you.” Greg paused, leaning in to lick the head of Mycroft’s cock as he pumped the shaft with his hands. As the member began to swell and harden he pulled back, earning a surprised gasp from the man above him.  
“I’m going to suck you until you’re on the verge of coming. Then I’m going to strip you out of that suit, and fuck you into the cement floor.” Greg continued, taking Mycroft into his mouth again.  
“Oh, Gregory.” The taller man gasped, causing Greg to smile around his shaft. Mycroft placed one hand on top of his lover’s head, not guiding or moving, simply resting. That was all the encouragement Greg needed to work his tongue and mouth faster over the man’s cock. 

“Oh…I…Gregory…Please...” When Mycroft began speaking in broken sentences, Greg knew he was getting close to the edge. Mycroft let out a desperate whine, when Greg pulled away.  
“Not yet, love.” Greg replied, getting to his feet. He immediately fastened their lips together, both men letting out a groan of delight. 

They began working to remove each other’s clothing. Mycroft toed off his shoes and let his trousers drop to the floor. Greg did the same, before tearing his shirt over his head. Greg idly stroked his iron hard cock as he watched Mycroft remove the remainder of his clothing. Once both men were completely bare, Greg pulled Mycroft to him, pumping a hand over both their cocks. He leaned in to whisper into his lover’s ear, “You still carry lube in your trouser pocket?” Mycroft nodded. “Then get it.” Greg hissed, before relinquishing his hold on the man. 

He let out an obscene groan as his lover bent to retrieve the packet of lube. Mycroft extended his arm behind him, to hand his lover the packet. He then knelt onto all fours on the floor. Greg got on his knees behind the man. He ripped open the packet and spread some of its contents onto his fingers. 

“Ready, love?” Greg asked, stroking one hand over the man’s side.  
“Yes.” Came Mycroft’s breathy reply. Greg began to insert one finger, stretching the internal muscles. The digit withdrew and returned with another, drawing a shuddering gasp from his lover. Greg thrust the two digits in and out slowly, pausing briefly to graze the man’s prostate.  
“Fuck…Gregory!” Mycroft moaned. The digits stilled. His lover must really be gagging for it, if he was gone enough to begin cursing, Greg thought. Greg looked around to Mycroft’s cock, which was leaking copiously onto the floor beneath them. 

“Oh, My. You’re so beautiful.” Greg murmured.  
“Then fuck me into the floor already.” Mycroft hissed in reply. Greg’s cock gave a powerful twitch at the man’s words. He removed his fingers completely.  
“Are you sure you’re ready?” He asked, grabbing for the lube again.  
“I swear if you don’t take me now, I will strap a cock ring on you, ride you for my own pleasure, and not allow you to come until I’ve been properly sated.” Mycroft hissed. 

“Oh, God.” Greg’s cock gave a spurt of pre-ejaculate. He took the lube, and using his hand, slicked up his aching member. He was about to speak when Mycroft cut him off again.  
“Just fuck me…please.” It sounded so pained and desperate that Greg hesitated. As he looked at the man spread out before him, Greg noticed the slight tremor of the man’s body. It wasn’t the normal tremor of extreme arousal that Greg had been expecting. When he touched the man’s side, he flinched. 

 

“My?” Greg asked with concern.  
“Please…” Came the choked reply. Greg gently positioned his lover on to his side, before then moving him to his back. Mycroft’s eyes were screwed shut and Greg could see trails of wetness gliding over his cheeks.  
“Oh, My. I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Greg moved a hand up to Mycroft’s cheek.  
“No.” Mycroft whispered.  
“Then what is it?” Greg asked.

“A release of emotional stress.” Mycroft opened his eyes as his silver haired lover wiped away the tears. The desire was still present in those amazing blue eyes; but Greg saw something else as well. “Make love to me.” Greg thought his heart might leap out of his chest and do a jig.  
“Yes. Oh God, yes.” Greg leaned in and captured his lover’s lips. Mycroft wrapped his arms around the older man’s neck, and locked his ankles around his back. Greg reached between them and slowly guided himself inside his lover. Both men let out a moan of ecstasy. 

 

CHAPTER 5  
{Moran Manor}

Snow entered one of the upstairs bedrooms in which Stephanie was being kept. She looked up as he closed the door behind him, her eyes going wide in surprise. She screamed through the gag. 

“Good evening, little fox.” He greeted her with a wicked smile. As he came closer, she struggled against her bonds; his smile grew more sinister with each step. “I’m going to remove the gag now. Promise to behave?” He asked. She nodded hesitantly. “Good.” He reached behind her head and untied the fabric of the gag, before stepping back. He pulled a chair from the corner, positioned it across from her, and took a seat. 

“You’re Mr. Snow.” It was more of a statement than a question.  
“Indeed.” He answered.  
“She will never come to you willingly.” Stephanie hissed.  
“You underestimate the value she places upon your friendship.” Snow replied with a sneer. “One would go as far as to say that she would sacrifice herself, if that meant that I would let you go.”

“We both know that you would never let either of us go…alive.” Stephanie spat.  
“Smart girl.” Snow replied, his voice held a tone of surprise.  
“Master?” A timid voice interrupted.  
“What?” Snow asked, quietly, as he slowly turned away from his prisoner.  
“She’s….Here.” Cutler replied. 

“You will have to be more specific, idiot.” Snow hissed.  
“The Princess…she wants…to talk.” He stuttered.  
“No!” Stephanie yelled.  
“Quiet, girl!” Snow retorted. He stood and made his way towards the door, before turning to Cutler. “Gag the fox and bring her out in a few minutes.”

“You can kill me, but…” Cutler stopped her speaking by placing the gag back in her mouth.  
“Your family will hunt me down and kill me. Yes, I know. I’ve heard that particular threat many times before.” Snow replied, never looking back as he opened the door and walked out. 

 

CHAPTER 6

“Da! Da!” Marcus yelled from the other side of the garage door. Greg and Mycroft scrambled to put their clothes on.  
“What is it?” Greg asked, pulling on his pants.  
“It’s Salina. She’s gone!” He answered in a panicked tone.  
“What!?” Mycroft exclaimed. 

“She said she was going to take a nap, while Stephan and I watched a movie. I’m sorry, M. We should have kept a closer eye on her.” Marcus apologized. As soon as the two of them were dressed, Mycroft and Greg entered the house.  
“Neither of you are to blame. This is my fault.” Mycroft sighed.

“She waited until no one was paying attention to sneak out. She never had any intentions of waiting for us to come up with a plan for Stephanie’s rescue. She was always going to go to Snow.” Sherlock interrupted. Mycroft’s legs threatened to give out; Greg caught him in time and helped him to one of the chairs at the dining room table. 

“Sherlock!” John called from the direction of the front door. The younger Holmes rushed from the room. When Sherlock arrived at the other man’s side, he found that Mary had retuned, but not alone; with her were two men. One was tall and muscular with shockingly bright blonde hair. The second man wasn’t much shorter than the first, only he was thinner and dark haired. They nodded at the younger Holmes.  
“I heard rumors of two men looking for the Princess in Berlin a few months back…” Mary started, before Sherlock lunged at the two men.

“How could you!” He yelled, his hands going for the blonde man’s throat.  
“Sherlock!” John exclaimed, trying to pull the detective away.  
“Stop!” Mycroft stood in the doorway of the dining room, leaning on Greg for support. Sherlock stilled and looked over his shoulder at his elder brother, “Let him go, Sherlock.”  
“Why?” The younger Holmes asked. Mycroft inclined his head towards Mary.

“As I was saying, these two were escorting the Princess back to London before they were ambushed. They have been imprisoned ever since.” Mary explained.  
“After Don Giovanni was assassinated, we immediately made plans to return the Princess to London where we knew she would be safe; but we were betrayed.” The tall blonde choked. Sherlock let go of him and took a step back.  
“Betrayed by whom?” Sherlock asked.

 

CHAPTER 7

{Moran Manor} 

“Snow!” Salina yelled.  
“Yes, Princess.” He answered, walking down the stairs into the main entrance way.  
“I’m here. Now let Stephanie go!”  
“Oh, Salina. You know better than that.” Snow shook his head in disappointment. Suddenly two burly werewolves grabbed ahold of her. Snow chuckled as he descended the last few steps of the stairway. 

“Look at you. So weak…I’m almost saddened in how easily you’ve given in.” He stepped closer, taking her chin in his hand and forcing her to look at him. “Am I to gather that you still have no memory of yourself before the night you were found?” Snow asked gleefully. Salina refused to meet his gaze. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He sneered.

“You may interpret that however you like.” Salina shot back.  
“Ah. So you didn’t lose your fire after all.” Snow inclined his head towards the two large wooden double doors on his right. The wolves holding Salina began to move in that direction.  
“Where are you taking me? Where is Stephanie?” 

 

“She will be joining us shortly.” Snow replied smoothly as he followed. The doors opened to reveal Lord Moran’s study. There were candles strewn about the room, flames flickering wildly, and an overly-large fireplace also blazing with life. Salina was tied to a chair facing the grand stone hearth. 

“You can do what you want Snow, but I’ll never be your puppet.” She hissed.  
“I don’t intend on keeping you alive that long, Princess.” Salina felt a stab of fear go through her at his tone. “You’re beginning to understand now, are you not?” Snow moved to stand in front of the fireside, causing shadows to dance around him. 

“I will never give you my power; and if I die… so does the Methuselah lineage and your plans of destroying the world with it.” She spat.  
“You will give me your power, Princess, and you will do so willingly…” the doors to the entry way opened again and Stephanie was dragged into the room by Moriarty and Sebastian. “Or I will slit her pretty little throat.” Stephanie’s eye went wide and she struggled against the two men holding her.

“Even if I wanted to…” She struggled against her bonds. “I don’t know how to will my powers to someone else.” She replied hastily, as Stephanie was thrust into Snow’s arms. He wrapped one arm around her neck, a blade glinting sharply against the shadow of the room. With a nod of his head, Snow motioned to someone behind Salina to come closer.  
“You need not worry about that.” She recognized the voice.

“Marius.” Salina seethed, trying to turn in the chair to look at the man.  
“Indubitably.” He replied, walking into her view, a smirk of satisfaction on his face.  
“You traitor!” She shrieked at the Moroi who had been her childhood tutor. 

 

CHAPTER 8

{Safe House}

“Betrayed by whom?” Sherlock asked again.  
The two men exchanged a glance before the tall blond looked back at Sherlock, sorrowfully. “By the one man that we all trusted…”  
“Do not make me ask a third time!” Sherlock hissed through clenched teeth.  
“…Marius.” The tall blonde replied rubbing his neck.  
“Who the bloody hell….” Greg began.

“Issac and Lucas are Don Giovanni’s men. They were given the task of guarding Salina, per my request.” Mycroft interjected.  
“We failed you, sir.” The dark haired man known as Issac replied.  
“You were betrayed by an elder of The Council?” Sherlock asked skeptically.  
“We were making our way out of the castle catacombs when we saw him order a group of Stregoi to kill the other Council members. He must have caught a glimpse of us leaving the castle, because it wasn’t much time later that they managed to follow our trail to Berlin. They managed to get the jump on us, and the next thing I knew we were in lock up.” Lucas explained. 

“Marius… had The Council assassinated?” Mycroft asked, pulling away from the wall and out of Greg’s arms.  
“Yes, sir. There was little time to inform anyone of the King’s death and even less to get the Princess to safety. I apologize for not notifying you as soon….” Issac started.  
“No one thought it prudent to let me know that the King was dead and my daughter’s life was endangered?” Mycroft scorned. 

“Her safety was our utmost concern. We had plans to….” Lucas tried to explain.  
“Plans. You had plans. It is pretty damn evident that your plans were exceedingly faulty!” Mycroft scolded, stalking closer. He was almost in the man’s face when Sherlock placed a hand on his brother’s arm.  
“You can’t blame them for Marius’s treachery. No one could have seen this coming.” Sherlock whispered calmly. Mycroft gave Sherlock a pained look. 

“We shouldn’t be arguing about things we can’t change.” John cut in.  
“You are right, John.” Mycroft replied softly. He turned back to face Issac and Lucas. “I need your help getting my girls back.”

 

PART VI  
CHAPTER 1

 

{Moran Manor}

“There are supplies I will be needing.” Marius said, looking at Snow.  
“Send Cutler with a list, he’s the errand boy.” Snow replied.  
“What are we supposed to do with these two until then?” Moran asked.

“Put the fox back upstairs.” He threw Stephanie towards Moriarty. “The princess…” Snow smiled wickedly, sending a series of sickening chills through Salina. “I believe the wine cellar will do quite nicely.”  
“Keeping them separate, are you sure-” Moran began to ask.  
“I wouldn’t have suggested it, otherwise.” Snow replied in annoyed disapproval.  
“Right.” Moran mumbled. He motioned for the werewolves to take them. 

 

****************

{Safe House}

A phone rang, breaking the tension. Everyone looked around at each other; it wasn’t a mobile.  
“Who has the number for this house?” Greg asked.  
“Only Anthea.” Sherlock replied, turning and walking into the kitchen. The phone rang once more before he answered it. “What?” 

“Do not use that tone with me, Sherlock. I’m not in the mood.” It was indeed, Anthea.  
“Dull. How’s the diet?” He asked.  
“Fine.”  
At her answer Sherlock set the phone aside and called into the other room. “Mycroft! The diet’s going fine.” He smiled as he said it. 

“Sherlock, what did I say about the fat jokes?!” Greg hissed as he and Mycroft entered the kitchen.  
“It’s alright, Gregory. In this instance he is not being malicious. It is a private code that very few people know.” Mycroft replied, picking up the phone. “Anthea.”

“Mr. Holmes. I have managed to convince Malory of your innocence in the death of the PM. He has agreed to help us rescue Stephanie and neutralize Snow.”  
“We have another problem to add to that list.” He replied.  
“What did you do now?” Anthea asked, exasperated.  
“Salina slipped out during the night. I believe that she has gone to rescue Stephanie, herself, by giving into Snow’s demands.” He sighed.  
“What!” She screeched loudly; Mycroft had to hold the phone away from his ear. The line went silent for a few seconds. “I’m going to require a very large pay raise after this.”

 

“You are irreplaceable, my dear.” Mycroft replied.  
“I will assemble a team and retrieve you.”  
“I need the children to be safe.” He replied.  
“I will have them brought to Elizabeth.” Anthea replied. 

“Thank you, my dear. Do you have an ETA?” Mycroft asked.  
“A few hours, I have to re-vet everyone.”  
“Make it a small team then; we have Mary, Issac, and Lucus. John will be our medical team, while Sherlock, Gregory, and I will act as extraction.”  
“Very well. Shall I assemble an escort instead?” She asked.  
“I think that would be best.”  
“Sir.” She disconnected. 

“You know, it’s kind of scary when you say things like that.” Greg spoke as Mycroft replaced the phone.  
“Gregory, you know that I previously worked as a handler for MI-6.” Mycroft sighed. “We’re going to get our girls back…I promise.” He stepped forward and kissed Greg on the cheek. 

 

CHAPTER 2

{Moran Manor}

Moriarty sneered, leaning against the door frame. The two wolves walked Salina into the cellar, tying her to a chair, and holding her steadfast. Moriarty stepped forward until he stood in front of her. 

“What are you doing?” Salina asked, sensing the Moroi’s movement. Moriarty secured a crimson ribbon around her neck. In the center dangled the symbol of a magic circle.  
“Binding your magic…” He ran a finger over the symbol. “This is carved from the wood of a whitethorn tree…Wouldn’t want you shifting on us, would we.” He smiled.

“Whitethorn? How did you-”  
“Simple, it’s made of the same wood used to kill your ancestors in Eastern Europe. It took a long time to figure out what type of stake the hunters had used. Apparently it is a very rare tree. Worked wonders on your father and Don Giovanni.” He replied, grasping her chin.  
“You bastard!” Salina hissed, trying to pull out of his grasp and bite.  
“You Methuselah worked very hard to keep that little secret hidden.” Moriarty’s grip tightened. “And when Snow has taken your power from you…leaving you mortal, I shall drain the life from you.”

“I don’t think that is what your Master had planned-” Salina countered.  
“Perhaps not. Maybe I’ll drain your little fox friend, instead.” Moriarty hissed, letting go of Salina.  
“If you touch her-”  
“You’ll do what? Your magic is bound, and I doubt your ‘father’ has put the puzzle pieces together yet; your threats are empty.” Moriarty laughed.  
“Just like your soul!” She seethed. Moriarty didn’t respond, he just turned and walked out of the room, dragging Moran behind him. The door was closed with a resounding thud. Its bolts were slid into place, leaving Salina locked in; the two werewolves her only company. 

Moriarty and Moran entered the study. Snow was standing on the far side of the room, his arms wrapped around one of Moran’s servants. His face was buried in the woman’s neck. Blood dripped down from where Snow’s fangs pierced the woman’s flesh, staining the white of her uniform. 

“What are you doing back up here, shouldn’t you be guarding the Princess?” Marius asked, from his seat next to the fireplace.  
“No need, I’ve bound her magic. She can’t shift, so there is very little chance of her escaping.” Moriarty replied, moving to sit opposite the Elder Moroi. Moran stood next to his lover. 

“How exactly did you accomplish such a task?”  
“Whitethorn.” Moriarty replied smoothly.  
“Ah…I presume you left her guarded.”  
“Four of Milo’s men: two inside and two guarding the door.”  
“Excellent.” Marius paused, a smug look on his face. “We will need to move her to the agreed-upon location, pending Cutler’s return.” He looked to Moran.

“There is a corridor leading from the cellar to the bunker; built as requested.” Moran replied.  
“Under Holy ground, impervious to outside magical influences…?” Marius asked.  
“Yes. Perfect, down to the very last detail.”  
“Good.” Marius turned his attention to the flames dancing within the fireplace.  
A heavy thud filled the silence as Snow dropped the woman to the floor and stalked out of the room. He paused at the door, “Clean that up, Moran.” and continued to walk out. 

“Better do as he says, ‘Sebby’. Don’t want to end up like Cutler…then again you’d probably enjoy it.” Marius sneered at Moran, and the other man’s vampire lover. 

 

CHAPTER 3

{Safe House}

“Anthea is here.” John called from the inner garage door.  
“Thank you, John.” Mycroft answered from the kitchen. He turned to Greg. “Are the boys ready?”  
“Yeah, let me go get ‘em.” Greg replied, walking out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. When he reached the guest bedroom, Greg knocked on the door. “Time to go, boys.” Greg called through the door. The door opened.

“We’re going with you.” Marcus exclaimed.  
“No! It’s too dangerous. I will not risk either of you.” Greg replied, firmly.  
“He’s right, Marcus.” Stephan interrupted. “Snow is a monster; he won’t hesitate to kill either of us or the girls. To go against him- you need a good strategy…a plan of attack.”  
“Yes, well…um…that plan includes the two of you going with Anthea and staying safe.” Greg replied. 

“What about you and M? What are Stephan and me going to do if something happens to you and M?” Marcus yelled, his eyes beginning to glisten with tears.  
“I…Oh, Marcus.” Greg stepped forward and pulled his son into a tight hug. “Nothing is going to happen to me or Mycroft.” Marcus let out a sob. “We’re going to rescue Stephanie and Salina. Then all of us are going to…to…”Greg held his son closer. Marcus buried his face in his father’s chest. 

“Then I intend to make an honest man out of your father, I promise.” Mycroft replied softly, from where he was standing at the top of the stairs.  
“Where are you sending us?” Stephan asked.  
“To stay with Salina’s cousin, Elizabeth.” Mycroft replied.

“If the two of you die, I swear I will make sure that Sherlock finds a way to-” Marcus mumbled.  
“To make the afterlife miserable, no doubt.” Mycroft said with a weak smile. 

“Now look who’s making inappropriately-timed jokes.” Sherlock was standing midway up the stairs, leaning against the railing, with a smirk on his face. “John said to tell you that Anthea said ‘To hurry up. The longer we linger, the more conspicuous we are.’ We don’t want-”  
“Yes, thank you, Sherlock. We will be right down.” Mycroft replied. Sherlock nodded, turning around and promptly walking back down the stairs. 

 

**********

A few minutes later Greg, Mycroft, and the two boys met Anthea outside. There were two black armored vehicles in the drive; one to take Marcus and Stephan to safety, and the other for the rescue mission. Greg hugged the boys tightly one more time, letting them go only when Mycroft placed a gentle hand on his arm. 

“It’s time.” Mycroft whispered.

 

“Don’t worry, Inspector. The boys will be safe with Elizabeth.” Anthea patted Greg on the shoulder and nodded at Mycroft, before climbing into the front seat of the SUV. Marcus and Stephan gave their guardians one last wave out the window of the back seat. The window was then rolled up and the SUV pulled away. Greg tuned to Mycroft with tears in his eyes.

“Are you absolutely sure that they will be safe?” He asked.  
“There is hardly a place safer than Buckingham Palace, I promise you.” Mycroft replied, pulling Greg into his arms.  
“Buckingham…You said…Elizabeth…as in-” Greg pulled back slightly to look at Mycroft in shock.  
“Indeed. She is…somehow related to James…cousins I believe…though I never have completely figured it out.” Mycroft replied.

“Really?” Greg gasped. “That explains a few things.”  
“I assure you, Gregory, that she shows me no favoritism.” Mycroft replied.  
“I don’t think I believe you.” Greg kissed him on the cheek.  
“You may think what you like, but I could not possibly comment.” Mycroft smiled, leading Greg back into the house. 

 

CHAPTER 4

Based on her sources, Mary had learned that Moriarty had been recruiting Stregoi on his master’s behalf. Thus, she used her magic to disguise the group as Stregoi, in order to gain access to Moran Manor. The group piled into the SUV Anthea had provided, with Irene Adler as their driver. She had volunteered, wanting to repay Sherlock for saving her from decapitation. 

As they got closer to the Manor, John, Greg, Issac, and Lucus checked their weapons. Sherlock and Mycroft exchanged looks. 

“We cannot go in armed to the teeth.” Mycroft placed a hand over Greg’s. “One firearm each…”  
“And one blade…Conceal both.” Sherlock finished.  
“One gun and a knife! Against how many Stregoi?” John exclaimed.  
“We cannot risk giving ourselves away too soon.” Sherlock replied.

“Don’t worry boys, I’ll get you past the door.” Mary smirked.  
“I’m not doubting that…I just…what the bloody hell are we…” John gestured to himself and Greg, “…supposed to do whe-”

“I doubt there will be many Stregoi in the Manor itself. Snow needs them for…something else.” Mary replied with a slight frown.  
“What else?” Greg asked.  
“Some kind of ceremony, that’s all I know.” She replied.

“Mary has disguised our…natures, but a multitude of weapons would alert Snow’s men to our true identities.” Mycroft explained.  
“Stregoi do no often use mortal weapons do to the fact-”  
“Mortal Weapons will kill a Stregoi, but not a Moroi.” Mary finished.

“What kills a Moroi?” John asked.  
“Magic.” Mary answered.  
“Or a well-placed claw.” Sherlock sneered.  
“Meaning what, Sherlock?” John asked.  
“Dragons are of earthly magic—the purest form of magic.”

*******************************

The bunker was made up entirely of stone, circular in shape. At its center was a partially-drawn magic circle. Salina was guided to the chair placed within the circle. She was secured with chain. Cutler dipped a paintbrush into a bucket, and used the blood-dipped brush to finish the circle. 

Marius entered the room, dressed in his formal elder robes. In one hand was a large, aged leather book; in the other was a bundle of incense. Cutler set the bucket and brush aside and moved to take the bundle from Marius. Cutler divided the bundle into smaller ones and evenly distributed them around the circle, lighting each one as he went. 

Cutler and Marius looked up as The Master entered. Snow observed the room before moving to sit in the throne-like chair that had been provided. It had been oriented in such a way that Snow could see the entirety of the room around him. The chair was directly across from Salina. He gave an amused smile as Salina glared at him. 

“Get your disgusting hands off me!” Salina heard Stephanie yell, as Moriarty and Moran pulled her into the room. “Salina!” She cried, as the two men dragged her towards Snow.  
“Let her go, you monster! I’m giving you my power; she is of no further value to you.” Salina howled as Stephanie was dumped at his feet.  
“I shall not. Her utility is not at an end just yet.” Snow sneered, running a hand through Stephanie’s hair. 

Salina’s gaze met Stephanie’s; the fear she saw in the young fox’s eyes sent chills up her spine. “I’m sorry, Stephanie.” Salina sighed, looking away.  
“Touching as this exchange is…” Snow motioned Marius to begin. The Elder Moroi stepped towards the magic circle and opened the book he’d been carrying. 

“Look at me.” Marius ordered. Salina raised her head in defiance; her eyes filled with mirth. “Listen to my voice.” Marius began reading the ancient text; reciting the antediluvian language of the vampires. Salina felt her eyes begin to wilt and drowsiness overwhelm her. 

**********************

The SUV pulled up the pebbled drive slowly, stopping before reaching the front entrance. 

“Stay here.” Mary whispered to Adler, who only nodded in return. “The rest of you, out.” She then exited the front passenger side of the SUV. She walked up the front steps and was greeted by two Stregoi. Mycroft and his lot exited the car. 

“Well, well, well… if it isn’t the traitorous witch.” The shorter of the two men sneered, eliciting a snort of laughter from the second vampire.  
“Very funny, Victor, your humor never ceases to amuse.” Mary retorted. “Where’s the boss?”  
“Oooooh, witchy lady wants to know where the boss is?”  
“Tell me, or do I have to have my comrades persuade you to do so?” Mary held up a hand in threat. 

“If you’re looking for Moriarty, he’s upstairs playing with his pet.” The second vampire answered.  
“And if I was looking for The Master?” Mary asked.  
“Already at the ceremony.” The shorter vampire replied.  
“Good.” Mary looked back at Mycroft and the rest of them. “Come along boys, I haven’t got all day.” 

Sherlock stepped forward first, moving to Mary’s side, head bowed. She reached over and placed a hand in his hair, curling her fingers through it tightly. She then shoved the younger Holmes towards the front door of the manor.

“Looks like you’ve got these ones wrapped around your pretty finger.” The vampires laughed.  
“Well, that’s the thing about ghouls, isn’t it? They always do what they’re told…just not very quickly.” Mary hissed. Mycroft took that as his cue to step forward as well, with Greg and the others following behind. 

Sherlock pushed open the front door and stepped inside, halting just feet from a body. Mary, keeping in character, pushed Sherlock aside and moved towards the stairs. The two guards were still laughing as they closed the door behind Mary and her ghouls. As the group looked around, they noticed more and more bodies strewn about the manor. All of them were fairly young men and women, most likely fresh out of university. 

“We should split up, cover more ground. …We need to find where the ceremony is taking place, and…someone needs to distract Moriarty.” John suggested quietly.  
“I agree. John, take my brother and look for the girls. Issac? Lucus? I want the two of you to find the ceremony and stop it. Gregory and I will follow Mary to look for Moriarty.” Mycroft replied.

“I should be the one looking for…” Sherlock began.  
“I will not discuss this, Sherlock.” Mycroft hissed.  
“Fine.” Sherlock spun around, walking deeper into the manor, John trailing behind him. Issac and Lucus did as they were ordered. 

“Why are we following Mary?” Greg asked.  
“I don’t want her killing him before…” Mycroft paused mid-step, half way up the first staircase.  
“Before you get the chance?” Greg asked.  
“He has information that is valuable…I need him alive just long enough to retrieve it.” Mycroft sighed, beginning up the steps again. 

“Damn it, Mycroft. Can’t you be honest with me? …You want the son-of-a-bitch dead.” Greg hissed, grabbing the taller man’s arm.  
“Yes, fine. I want him dead, but…I have no idea what kind of magic he has used on my daughter, and I would rather not have her die as a result of me killing him.”  
“Like a dead man switch?” Greg asked.  
“Precisely.” Mycroft pulled away from the older man. They continued their climb in silence. 

When they reached the landing for the second floor, they could hear Mary speaking to someone.

“Where is your lover, Moran?” She asked.  
“Why? Jealous? Or is it that you wanna join us? I personally wouldn’t be opposed to a…”  
“Shut up! Just shut up! Now, where is he?” Mary asked, more forcefully. 

Greg began to move forward; Mycroft pulled the other man back against him. They saw a figure step out of the dark hallway, and into the limited light coming from the room Mary was in. He pushed open the door, revealing his face to all. 

“Mary, how good of you to join us on this…”  
“Shut it, Jim.” She pointed the gun in her hand at the vampire.  
“Ah, not here to join our team, then. Pity.” Moriarty moved to stand next to Moran.  
“You have a lot to answer for, Jim.” Mary hissed, pointing the gun at the two lovers.  
“So do you.” He laughed. “I mean really, falling in love with Sherlock’s mate. How sad and pathetic can you get? Did you really think John would keep you when he found out Sherlock was alive?”

Mycroft allowed Greg to step forward, both men pulling out their own weapons as they approached the room. Mycroft entered first. He was just in time to see Mary step toward Moriarty, a magic ball in one hand, and a gun in the other. 

“Mary.” Mycroft spoke her name softly, to avoid becoming a target.  
“Don’t, please…” Greg started.  
“I’m going to kill him, Mycroft.” Mary replied.

“I know, and I will not stop you.” Mycroft stepped closer to the witch, placing a gentle hand on her arm. “But first we need some information from him. Remember our deal?” Mycroft asked.  
“Don’t think for a second that I’m going to give you anything , Holmes.” Moriarty sneered.  
“I never said you had to give me the information… willingly.” The smile dropped from Moriarty’s face. 

“You don’t have the power to force it out of me.”  
“True, but Mary does. If I were a betting man, I would say, she never told you about the true level of power she possesses.”  
“She’s a witch, her powers are nothing…”  
“She’s a Strega.” Mycroft replied.

“No, she can’t be…she’s…” Moran began to stutter.  
“Shut up, Sebastian.” Moriarty yelled. “How did you manage to keep that a secret?”  
“You never asked for a demonstration of my powers…until now…” Mary raised the hand holding the magic ball, and placed it against Moriarty’s temple. He instantly fell to his knees in front of her. 

Mycroft took the gun from her other hand. Mary then placed it on the other side of Moriarty’s head. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on finding the memory that contained the spells that had been placed on Salina. After a few minutes of searching his mind, she withdrew, letting his unconscious body fall to the floor. 

“Did you find it?” Mycroft asked.  
“No harm will come to her if he dies. For all the talking he does, his magic is rather subpar.” Mary replied.

“You traitorous hag!” Moran screamed, moving to his lover’s side.  
“Oh please, do shut up.” Mary replied. 

No one had seen Moran reach behind him, into the waistband of his trousers, and pull out a gun. He got off two rounds, and moved to the doorway before Greg shot him in the shoulder. Moran ducked out into the hallway, and Greg moved to follow. Mycroft grabbed his lover’s arm tightly.

“Let him go. He’s human…”  
“And? He’s a killer, Myc…”  
“He’s the least of our problems. If there are any other Stregoi in the manor, they will have heard the shots.” Mycroft explained.  
“Right.” Greg conceded. He lowered his gun and ran a hand through his hair. “What about him?” Greg gestured to Moriarty.

 

“Do you want the honors, Mr. Holmes? Or shall I?” Mary asked.  
“I…Finish him, for good.” Mycroft replied, grabbing Greg’s hand and dragging him out of the room. 

************************

Sherlock and John had found a passageway leading to the basement, from the study of the manor. Upon entering, they found a couple of werewolves, who were easily dispatched. The wolves had been guarding a large steel door. Sherlock tried to open it, using his dragon form, but it was unmovable. John watched as the frustrated man began to pace back and forth in thought. He looked around the room, when something caught his eye: keys. Both wolves had keys on their belts. John hurried to take the belts off the bodies. 

“What are you doing?” Sherlock asked.  
“Help me take their belts off.” John said.  
“Why?”  
“Because they’ve got keys on them, you stupid sod.” John replied.  
“Keys…” Sherlock moved to the other wolf and began undoing the man’s belt. He removed the small silver keyring, and handed it to John. 

“Good, now help me figure out where they go.” John replied. Sherlock began running his hands along the walls. Nothing. John examined the door itself and found nothing.  
“They don’t go to this door, John.” Sherlock droned, leaning back against one of the foundation pillars. John sighed, moving to stand next to the taller man. 

“Oh, yes they do…” John gave Sherlock a polite little shove, away from the pillar. He raised his hand up, running his fingers along the stone. “Here…” John brought his other hand up and slid one of the keys into place. The sound of heavy bolts being unlocked filled the room.

“Brilliant.” Sherlock exclaimed. He grabbed John by his jumper and kissed the man.  
“Thanks…” John gasped when the kiss ended. Sherlock took the other key and began feeling up the other stone pillars.  
“Here, John…” Sherlock called from the other side of the large basement. He slid the second key into place. The steel door began to unlock, and then open. Sherlock rushed over to the shorter man, who had been slightly frozen since the kiss. “John?” Sherlock called softly. 

“You…you called me ‘brilliant’.” John replied.  
“Yes.”  
“I…” John looked up into Sherlock’s eyes, “I love you.” John whispered.  
“And I you…not that I want to ruin the moment, but we do have a mission to complete.” Sherlock placed a chaste kiss on his lover’s lips. Then, he turned and began running through the now open door. 

Sherlock navigated the many corridors, John following quickly behind, when Sherlock suddenly paused, sniffing the air. 

“Werewolves.” Sherlock exhaled.  
“Again? What do we do now?” John asked, gripping his pistol tightly.  
“Wait here.” Sherlock began to transform, his clothing dropped into a pile at John’s feet.  
“What are you doing?” John hissed.  
“Improvising.” Sherlock replied, disentangling himself from the voluminous fabric. He scurried around the corner. 

John briefly peeked around said corner. He saw two armed wolves standing towards the end of the corridor, guarding a large door. John spotted Sherlock sneaking in the shadows along the wall towards the wolves. The small black dragon went completely undetected as he moved behind the two. Sherlock shifted into his larger dragon form, swinging his tail, clubbing both over the head.

“John…” The soldier turned to see Greg and the others coming up the long corridor from the manor.  
“Shit! Don’t sneak up on people like that, Greg.” John said in a harsh whisper.  
“Where is Sherlock?” Mycroft asked. “He knocked out the guards.” John nodded over his shoulder to the corridor beyond the corner. Mycroft nodded and followed John.  
Sherlock smiled down at the two unconscious werewolves, admiring his handiwork as John and the others hurried towards him. 

“What did you do?” Greg asked.  
“Knocked them out. Quick, soundless, and efficient. Let’s go.” Sherlock shifted into his human form right before deciding to slam open the door. “Surprise!” He exclaimed.

******************

When Salina next opened her eyes, she found that her surroundings had dramatically changed. Salina sprung to her feet. ‘What’s going on?’ She stood, looking at her hands, which were no longer bound. As she looked around the room, Salina noticed the familiarity of the room. ‘No, it couldn’t be…’ She walked out of the room and into another. Salina recognized her new location to be her childhood home… though something wasn’t quite right. 

The windows were muddied and the walls were leaking an inky fluid. Salina’s chest began to tighten with a sickening feeling of fear. She was cautious as she moved through the house; the flow of inky fluid increased as the walls started moving inward. Salina’s fear griped her tighter. A voice broke through the silence; she understood the words and moved to flee the room.

“I can make all of this fear, and closeness go away. All you have to do is give me what I’m looking for.” The voice spoke softly. 

When Salina turned towards the door she had entered through, it had disappeared. She looked around frantically, trying to find an escape; another door had appeared on the wall adjacent. Salina ran towards it. Grasping the handle, she flung it open; it was dark inside. Looking back, she saw the inky fluid forming into a figure and reaching for her. Salina made her decision. Rushing into the darkness, she slammed the door behind her. 

There were three things Salina was sure of: One being that the voice outside the door was growing louder. The second being her heartbeat was so loud she swore that the figure heard it. The third being… she heard someone screaming.

 

CHAPTER 5

All eyes were on the naked man now standing in the doorway. Sherlock stepped aside and let the others enter. All four men entered, guns drawn. Mycroft had taken advantage of their enemies’ few precious moments of shock to call upon a few of his dragon features; claws, teeth, and scales.

“Kill them.” Snow ordered. The Stregoi lurking in the shadows moved towards the intruders.  
“Da!” Stephanie yelped, as Snow tightened his grip in her hair.  
“Don’t worry Stephanie…” Greg shot one of the Stregoi in the head. 

John and Sherlock made their way around the room, dispatching one Stregoi after another. Mycroft made his way towards Marius. The Elder Moroi was standing just outside the magic circle, eyes closed, chanting, and completely unaware of Mycroft’s approach. As Mycroft stepped closer the sickening sound of Salina’s screams filled the air, stopping him mid-stride. 

John and Greg had incapacitated Cutler as he tried to make a run for the door. John used a set of magical ties to bind the young Stregoi, while Greg held a gun to Cutler’s head. Sherlock, Issac, and Lucus finished off the small legion of Stregoi around the room; leaving nothing but a bloody trail in their wake. 

There was a sudden shift in the air. It was almost as if all the oxygen was being sucked out of the room, and then thrust back in at the same time. Salina’s screaming continued. Mycroft took the remaining steps toward Marius, his dragon claws elongating with each step. With one swift strike of his sharp claws, Mycroft cut down the traitorous Moroi. The power of the magic circle receded and Salina’s screams began to fade. 

“Wrong move, Holmes.” Snow chuckled. Mycroft turned to face The Master, his eyes widened. “Ah, you understand your error, now.” Snow held a knife to Stephanie’s throat.  
“Let her go!” Greg shouted, approaching Mycroft’s side. 

Salina opened her eyes, the light stinging them. As she squinted, Salina realized that she was seeing through her own eyes, and not Stephanie’s. She couldn’t keep them open for very long, even squinting hurt after a few seconds. 

“You had to know it wasn’t going to be as simple as all that; rushing in here, guns and claws at the ready.” He paused, leaning into Stephanie, scenting her racing pulse. “I’m almost disappointed.”  
“Disa- I’ll give you-” Greg began to step towards Snow, but Mycroft held out an arm to keep him back.

“Leave her alone!” Salina cried, struggling against the chains.  
“Oh, look at you…completely bound in your human form and so…helpless.” Snow sneered.  
“You got what you wanted! Now. Let. Her. Go!” Salina hissed.  
“Ah, but I didn’t receive all of your power, now did I.” Snow nodded towards the limp body of the Elder Moroi. “No, I would have killed you both regardless.” 

The next few moments seemed to move in slow motion: Snow drew his blade across Stephanie’s neck. Her body slid to the floor at Snow’s feet; Greg and Mycroft rushed forward. Snow moved rapidly towards the open door, a snide smile upon his face. The door closed behind him, as Sherlock and John tried to beat Snow to the exit. 

“Stephanie! Please. Oh, god. Stephaine!” Greg cried as he attempted to cover her bleeding neck with his hands. Mycroft pulled off his suit Jacket and shoved Greg’s hands out of the way. He then placed the material over Stephanie’s wound, and placed his own hands over it. 

Realizing that the door wasn’t going to open, Sherlock turned his attention to Salina. Sherlock shoved John in Stephanie’s direction while signaling Issac and lucus to help him break the circle. Sherlock transformed into his full dragon form, using all his remaining strength to cough up some of the acid that he used to breathe fire. Sherlock spit the acid on the outline of the magic circle, using his tail to spread it around. Instantly, the blood and magic began to corrode, allowing Issac and Lucus to enter and unchain Salina. 

“The ribbon…it binds my magic…” Salina’s voice was hoarse from screaming.  
“Whitethorn…how did...?” Issac began.  
“Never mind that…take it off…” Salina hissed.  
“Right.” Issac used a sharp nail to slice through the crimson ribbon. Issac and Lucus helped Salina to stand.  
“Now…take me…to Stephanie.” She ordered. The two Moroi led her out of the magic circle. 

“You’re not strong enough-” Sherlock started, taking hold of Salina’s arm.  
“I have to…she…” Salina kept a firm grip on Sherlock’s arm. Her nails began to dig into his flesh as they walked towards Stephanie and the scent of blood became almost overwhelming. 

“Stephanie, please….stay with me…” Greg cried, cradling Stephanie’s body to his. Mycroft’s blood-soaked jacket lay on the stone floor next to them. There was nothing any of them could do.  
“She’s dead.” John whispered to Mycroft, who placed a gentle hand on Greg’s shoulder.  
“Gregory, she’s-” Greg shrugged him off violently. Mycroft moved away, to stand next to John.

“No, she can’t be…” Tears flooded Greg’s cheeks as he looked down at Stephanie’s face. She was pale and her skin had begun to go cold. “Stephanie, love, can you hear me…its daddy.” He began to sob uncontrollably. 

“I can help…” Salina whispered, as Sherlock helped her to sit by Greg and Stephanie’s side. Greg looked up.  
“How…?” He gulped.  
“You know how…” She showed her fangs, whilst brushing her hand over Greg’s tear-stained cheek.  
“I…” Greg looked at her, his eyes full of pain and sorrow.

“Please…this whole…thing was…my fault.” Salina pleaded.  
“Are you strong-….can you do it?” Greg asked.  
“Yes, if you let me…there is only so much time.” Salina gave him a pitiful smile.  
“Please…” Greg shifted back, only slightly, to give Salina room. 

Salina took hold of Stephanie’s wrist, bringing it to her lips and fangs. She drank what little remained before biting her own wrist and bringing it to the young fox’s lips. Greg watched, amazed, as Stephanie swallowed Salina’s blood. After a few moments, Salina removed her wrist. 

“Is that it?” Greg asked.  
“Only time will tell.” Salina replied. 

“We need to find a way out of here.” John spoke, interrupting the silence.  
“Indeed.” Mycroft replied.

“The door is sealed.” Sherlock interjected.  
“What?!”  
“It would seem that Marius did manage to transfer some of Salina’s magic to Snow.” Sherlock replied, helping Salina to stand once more.  
“Then how-”

Suddenly there were four knocks in quick succession against the door. It repeated twice. 

“Four knocks, why-” John asked, confused.  
“It’s code, obviously.” Sherlock scoffed.  
“Four knocks, there is always four knocks.” Greg looked to Mycroft, who moved towards the door and proceeded to knock ten times in response. 

“Stand back.” A voice called from the other side. Mycroft turned so his back was facing the wall, just as it was blown inwards.  
“Jesus!” John coughed, waving a hand to clear the smoke from the air.  
“Not quite.” The voice replied.  
“Mary?” John asked.  
“Yes, John.” She replied with a smile.  
“No time for pleasantries, we need to get out of here.” Sherlock began walking Salina towards the exit.

Greg gathered Stephanie’s body in his arms, refusing to let anyone help him carry her. Mary led the way out, with Issac and Lucus bringing up the rear. They made it safely out of the manor with few obstacles. Mycroft helped Greg and Stephanie into the back of the SUV first. Then he and Salina climbed in, followed by Sherlock and John. Issac and lucus got in last, closing the doors. Mary got in the front seat with Adler. 

“Where to?” Irene Adler asked.  
“Home.” Mycroft replied.  
“Are you sure it’s safe?” Sherlock asked.  
“Anthea has…taken precautions.” Mycroft nodded. 

The SUV pulled away from the manor and back towards the main road. 

“Wait.” Mary said.  
“What?” Irene asked.  
“I almost forgot…” she rolled down the window, took something out of her pocket, and pointed it at the manor. A few seconds later, a rather large explosion and ball of fire engulfed the place. “Ok, we can go now.” She rolled the window back up with a smile.  
“Well…I think that was a tad overkill, don’t you?” Mycroft asked.  
“No such thing, when dealing with Stregoi.” Mary smirked. 

 

EPILOGUE (Part VII)

CHAPTER 1  
{The Aftermath}

Stephanie opened her eyes. She blinked as they adjusted; taking in her surroundings. She was in her room, that much she knew; but how did she get here? The last thing she remembered was…her hands flew to her throat. Stephanie was so sure that she had died. So, how was she here at home; in her room, in her bed, alive?

When she went to sit up her left arm caught on something. Looking down she discovered an IV in her arm. Her gaze followed the tubing to the empty bag of…blood. Stephanie looked at it confused. She unhooked the tubing; but left in the IV. Throwing back the covers with her right arm, she swung her legs over the edge of the mattress. Keeping one hand braced on the bed she stood up on wobbly legs. Once steady she made her way to the door; opening it she found the hallway empty. 

She crossed to the bathroom, turning on the light, and closing the door behind her. She looked at herself in the mirror. A jagged white scar stood out on her neck. Her eyes shone brightly. She didn’t understand what was going on. What happened after she had blacked out? There was a soft knock on the door; making her jump. 

“Stephanie?” Her fathers concerned voice asked from the other side of the door.  
“Da?” She asked walking back to the door.  
“Oh, thank god.” Greg sighed with relief, “Stephanie, please open the door.”  
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. There’s something wrong with me.” She replied, her cheek pressed to the wood of the door.  
“I know you’re scared and confused, but you are safe. I promise.” Stephanie took a moment, closing her eyes to process the situation. She took a deep breath. 

“I’m going to open the door.” She answered turning the lock and grasping the handle. She opened it just enough to see into the hallway. Only Greg and Salina were standing outside.  
“We’re all relieved that you’re alright.” Greg said stepping closer.  
“Don’t.” She flinched backwards.  
“I don’t understand.” Greg replied with a frown.

“She’s having a panic attack.” Salina explained, placing a hand on Greg’s arm to comfort him, “Not surprising; her mind and body are conflicted. It will pass once the change is complete.” Salina continued.  
“Change? What the bloody hell are you….”Stephanie started. Just standing there, stunned. “You…I’m…” She pointed from Salina to herself.

“A vampire.” Salina replied softly, “I’m sorry, Stephanie.”  
Tears began to gush down the brunet’s face, “I thought that I was dead after…” She pulled the door open and flung herself into her bestie’s arms. Thank you.” She whispered into Salina’s neck.  
“I couldn’t let you die because of me; though I am eternally grateful for your courage.” Salina whispered back. 

“Does this mean I won’t be able to shift anymore?” Stephanie asked.  
“Of course not! Although, I will not be needing assistance to fly anymore.” Salina smiled.  
“You got your sight back!” Stephanie took a step back to look at her.  
“Moriarty is dead. Thus, any magic or curse he cast is gone.”  
“Oh, Salina. That’s wonderful!” They embraced once more. 

Greg cleared his throat, “We should let you wash up and changed.” He laid a hand on Salina’s shoulder and leaned in to plant a kiss on his daughter’s forehead. “We’ll be downstairs when you’re ready.” He turned and walked down the hallway to the staircase. Salina gave Stephanie one last smile before following Greg. 

*******************************

“She’s awake then?” Mycroft asked as Greg sank down on the sofa next to him. When he received no reply, Mycroft pulled the man closer.  
“She died, My. The only daughter I will ever have, died in my arms.” He snuggled closer to his lover.  
“She’s alive, Gregory. Stephanie is alive, upstairs, right now.” Mycroft whispered in his hair.  
“I know; but...It was terrifying , My!” Greg hissed.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He pulled the older man closer.  
“No, you don’t. You don’t understand at all, Mycroft!” Greg pulled away.  
“Gregory!” Mycroft exclaimed. 

Greg sat up and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He ran one hand through his hair face. “I saw him, My. His face, it was like…Oh god, My. When he took that knife to her…” He paused taking a shuddering breath. “Every time I close my eyes…I see his face as he slices my little girl open….I see…” He looked at Mycroft, “I see you!” Greg cried loudly, standing and moving away. Tears began flowing freely down his face. 

“I…” Mycroft stood, moving towards his distraught lover. Greg put a hand up.  
“No…I think we need some space.” Greg replied wiping at his face, “I’ll take the kids to..”  
“Gregory, please…” Mycroft begged, panic flooding his system. He couldn’t be alone again.  
“I can’t, My. I’m sorry, but even being in the same flat…give me some time, love.” Greg pleaded.  
“I think we should let the children decide where…”

“Oi! The two of you aren’t even married yet and you’re thinking about separating?” Marcus replied from the stairs. Both men looked in the boy’s direction.  
“Marcus….I…we…” Greg began.  
“Save it. You two need to sort things out. We ‘kids’ will go stay with Gran.” Marcus replied crossing his arms  
“Gran! You want to go to France?” Greg exclaimed. 

“No. Grandmother Holmes.” Marcus responded with an eye roll that could have rivaled even that of the great Sherlock Holmes.  
“What?” Greg asked.  
“We couldn’t have stayed at 221B, could we? Not with baby Amelia fussing all the time, and Sherlock being pregnant. So, we decided that it might be best if we stayed with Grandmother Holmes for a while."  
“Why?” Mycroft asked.  
“After all that’s happened…Stephan, Salina, and I thought that everybody could use some space.” Marcus paused, “And what with Stephanie being newly turned and all. We thought it may be a good opportunity for her to learn how to handle her new powers.” Marcus finished.

“Well…I …um…I guess I can’t argue with that.” Greg replied, looking towards Mycroft.  
“Great, cause we leave in a few hours.” Stephan said, walking down the stairs to stop at the other boy’s side.  
“A few hours?” Greg asked confused.  
“Yep. Had Anthea on standby ever since we got home; told her that we would go to Gran’s as soon as Stephanie woke.” Marcus explained.  
“Oh, and Salina said to tell the two of you that you’re to leave as well.” Stephan interjected.  
“What!” It was Mycroft’s turn to look confused. 

“Yep. She’s had it all arranged. You and Da will go to her Italian vila for some much needed relaxation” Marcus smiled.  
“I…It’s not that I don’t want to go…” Greg began.  
“No objections!” Salina called form the top of the stairs, “You will fix this!” She said, looking pointedly at Mycroft. 

“And how do you suggest I do that?” He asked.  
“Oh, I don’t know. You could try talking; and I don’t mean at Greg. Try having a conversation with him.” She replied as she reached the last step of the staircase. 

“No offence Salina, but I don’t think any type of talking is going to help.” Greg interrupted quietly.  
“I don’t want to see the two of you throw away one of the best things that has happened to either of you.” She said coming closer to the two men.  
“And that would be?” Mycroft asked. He was a little shocked at how much he sounded like Sherlock.  
“Each other.” She smiled, “And our combined, freaky little family.” She grabbed their hands and entwined them. 

Greg and Mycroft exchanged glances between their hands and each other’s eyes.  
“It may be beneficial for the two of us to have some time alone together.” Mycroft whispered.  
“Like it was before all of this craziness.” Greg nodded. 

“It’s settled then, Stephanie, the boys, and I will spend time with Grandmother; while the two of you go off on holiday.” Salina smiled. 

 

CHAPTER 2  
{Holiday}

“Welcome, my darlings.” Mummy Holmes greeted them, placing a kiss on each of their cheeks.  
“Thank you for allowing us to stay with you.” Stephanie murmured.  
“Think nothing of it. If anything, my boys need to sort themselves out. Especially with Sherlock expecting.” She giggled. 

 

*****************************

{The Italian Villa} 

 

Mycroft stood on the balcony outside his bedroom, dressed in silk pajamas and housecoat. He had a cup of Darjeeling tea in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He stood there, in the morning cold, observing Greg as he swam continuous laps in the pool.

In the week they had been at the villa, both men had hardly spoken to one another. Both slept in different rooms and managed entirely different routines. Mycroft was awake first; no real change there. He made morning tea, had a smoke, watched Greg swim, and found something to read. 

Greg would wake second. Instead of making coffee as he usually did; Greg would go for a swim. Once finished he would brew some coffee and make breakfast for two. The entire meal would be spent in silence; that is, if they actually ate together. The rest of the day was spent in much the same way; continuously avoiding one another and rarely speaking a word.

Mycroft had hoped that this little holiday that the children cooked up would help bring Greg and himself closer together; but in fact it had done the exact opposite. Mycroft sighed and put out the cigarette. As he finished his tea, his mobile went off. He looked at the screen, Salina. He sighed and sent it directly to voicemail. She had called numerous times since he and Greg had arrived at the villa; each time Mycroft had ignored the call. His mobile rang yet again. Only this time it was Anthea. Mycroft gulped. Salina must have gotten extremely irritated if his assistant was calling. 

“Yes?” He reluctantly answered.  
“Mycroft Holmes!” Her voice was shrill and full of disapproval.  
“What is it, Anthea?”  
“How dare you ignore your daughter’s calls. She’s been worried sick.”  
“I’m fine.” Mycroft replied.  
“Liar!” Anthea accused.  
“What?” He asked incredulously.  
“You always say that when there is something wrong and you wish to change the subject.” She snapped.  
“I am fine, and you can tell everyone else the same thing.” He replied sternly.

 

“It’s quite obvious that the two of you haven’t resolved anything.” She growled.  
“How would you know?” He knew it was a childish retort, more akin to something Sherlock would say.  
“You’re using the same exasperated tone that you usually have when returning from visiting 221B.” 

“You really want to know how I am!” He replied, “The man I’m in love with hates me. He won’t speak to me, see me, or even touch me! He hasn’t made love to me in over two weeks….and” He paused, taking a deep breath, “…and I am currently carrying his child!” Mycroft yelled into the phone, tears rolling down his cheeks. 

“Way too much info…” and the line went dead. Mycroft let out a broken sob and threw his mobile across the room; hitting the wall with a solid thump. Mycroft turned back towards the balcony, wiping at his eyes.  
“My?” A soft whisper asked from the bedroom door.  
“Go away.” He sniffed in replied when he heard Greg’s footsteps coming closer.  
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Greg asked quietly.  
“I…because you…you don’t want to be with me anymore.” Mycroft replied looking down at his empty tea cup.

“I never said I was leaving. Only that I needed time.” Greg moved to stand directly behind the taller man, wrapping his arms around his lover’s waist. The dampness of his swimming shorts seeping through Mycroft’s robe. “How Long?” Greg asked.  
“I estimate a few months...the morning sickness has only just began.” Mycroft replied.  
“How? we were so careful...” Greg asked, nuzzling into the taller man’s neck.  
“I’m...I think it was...that afternoon...at Christmas.” Mycroft replied thoughtfully.

“But...we used protection. Do you think the condom was...faulty?” Greg asked.  
“Perhapse...or it could have been fate...” Mycroft whispered.  
“Mycroft Holmes, did you just call this fate?” Greg laughed.  
“Never...” He replied. “I...I love you.”

“I...really needed to hear those words from you.” Greg whispered into the man’s neck, “Say them again.” He sighed.  
“I…love…” Mycroft swallowed, “I love you, Gregory.”  
“And I love you, Mycroft.” Greg whispered, turning the taller man in his arms and pulling him into a kiss. 

Mycroft’s arms moved to embrace his lover. The kiss was chaste but expressed so much more. When they parted, Greg began planting small kisses all over Mycroft’s face and neck. He kissed away all the loss, fear, and pain; replacing it with hope, peace, and love. Greg pulled the damp towel from his waist, dropping it to the floor. Mycroft captured the older man’s lips once more as his hands slid Greg’s wet shorts off. Greg smiled against his lover’s lips and brought his hand around to the front of Mycroft’s robe. Greg pulled the belt loose and began working on the buttons of the taller man’s pajamas. 

When both shirt and robe landed on the floor, Greg took a step back and moved towards the bed. Mycroft took the opportunity to finish undressing and walked to the bed. Greg was seated on the edge of the mattress, he scooted further back as Mycroft moved closer. Mycroft straddled the older man; his knees on either side of Greg’s hips. Reaching up the mattress, underneath the pillows, Greg retrieved the bottle of lube he knew would be there. Mycroft reached to take it from his lover. 

“You sure, this is what you want, Mycroft?” Greg asked, holding the bottle tightly.  
“Yes, Gregory.” Mycroft replied, softly as he laying his hand over the older man’s. Greg opened his hand and allowed Mycroft to take the lube.  
“Would you like me-”  
“I wish to ride you.” Mycroft said, placing a finger over Greg’s lips. “I want to see your face when…when we make love. Greg moaned before sucking the digit against his lips into his mouth. Instead of the whimper or moan he was expecting, Mycroft let out a deep rumbling purr. Greg’s eyes widened. Mycroft’s hand fell away as Greg swiftly moved to sit up.  
“Was…Fuck…that was you, wasn’t it?” Greg asked, pulling the taller man into a deep kiss. 

Mycroft smiled into the kiss. This must be what it feels like to be truly happy. After a moment he pulled back to look at his lover. Greg watched as the taller man opened the lube and squirted a fair amount onto his fingers before closing it again and dropping it onto the mattress beside them. His eyes, never leaving that of his lovers, as Mycroft’s fingers moved to open himself for Greg. 

As Mycroft slid one finger into himself he let out a gasp. Greg let out a groan as he witnessed the wanton display in front of him. Mycroft had risen from Greg’s lap and was now, quite ardently, fucking himself with his own fingers. Greg reached out and took his lover’s cock in hand. Mycroft let out a strangled cry. Greg instantly removed his hand. 

“Mycroft?” Greg asked, concerned.  
“I…I’m going to…”  
“You want to cum?” Greg asked.  
“Please…” Mycroft whined.

“I thought you wanted to ride me?” Greg asked cheekily. Mycroft’s eyes opened and he looked down at his lover. Greg inhaled sharply; Mycroft’s blue eyes were shining. “Myc-”  
“I…Greg-ory.” Mycroft panted, sling his fingers out of his hole. Then, using the same hand, he grasped Greg’s cock and began lowering himself onto it. 

“Oh…god…My.” Greg moaned, his hands flying to the man’s waist. Mycroft shuddered as he took Greg’s cock in one downward thrust. “Fuck!...Warn a man, would you.” Greg’s laugh turned into a moan as Mycroft inner muscles squeezed around his lover’s cock. “My…”  
“Gregory!” Mycroft let out a strangled cry. His eyes closed, his cock shooting cum over his lover’s stomach and chest.  
“Christ!” Greg hissed, fingers tightened on the man’s hips; holding Mycroft through his climax.

A few moments later, Mycroft opened his eyes. Greg was smiling up at the man.  
“That was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” Greg said, his hands petting Mycroft’s hips and thighs.  
“I…You didn’t?” Mycroft blushed at the thought of how quickly he had reached his release; feeling Greg’s still hard cock inside him. 

“It’s fine.” Greg said, pulling Mycroft down for a kiss; trying to reassure his lover. As they exchanged lazy kisses, Greg felt something poking him in the stomach. He pulled away and looked down. “You’re…that’s…”  
“It’s biology…my body is responding to you…the baby…hormones…” Mycroft explained.  
“Like when you’re in heat?” Greg asked with a smug grin.  
“Yes.” Mycroft replied with quiet embarrassment.  
“Well then, we shouldn’t waste anymore of our little vacation, should we?” Greg rolled his hips upwards. He was rewarded with another deep purr. “I’m looking forward to hearing that more often.”

 

CHAPTER 3  
{Holmes Family Cottage}

“Way too much info…” Anthea said, slamming the phone down on the receiver. Salina looked at her with concern.  
“So… they haven’t resolved anything?” Salina asked.  
“No…” Anthea replied shaking her head. “and I really didn’t need to hear that they weren’t having-”  
“Ok! I get it.” Salina cut in. Anthea gave her a peculiar look. “What?” Salina asked.  
“Mycroft’s… he’s... pregnant.” Anthea replied.  
“What!?” Salina gasped.

“What’s with all the racket?” Stephanie asked, walking into the kitchen.  
“Father…He’s...Pregnant.” The last word was said softer than a whisper.  
“M’s what…I didn’t catch that last bit?” Stephanie asked.  
“We’re going to have a sibling.” Salina replied.  
“A sib-“

“Oh my Lord!” Mrs. Homes cried. “Another grand-baby on the way!” Stephan and Marcus came running into the room at Mrs. Holmes’s cry.  
“What’s going on?” Marcus asked.  
“Were going to have a little baby brother or sister!” Stephanie replied, jumping up and down next to Salina.  
“What…you mean-” Marcus stuttered.  
“M’s pregnant!” Stephanie screeched.

“That’s…I don’t know what to say.” Marcus mumbled.  
“You’re not happy for Da and M?” Stephanie asked, ceasing all movement.  
“I didn’t say that…I just…” Marcus sighed. “We don’t even know if they’ve worked things out, and now there’s a baby in the equation…” 

“Shut up! Just shut up!” Salina yelled. Everyone in the room turned to look at her.  
“Salina, he didn’t mean-” Mrs. Holmes began.  
“I know…I’m sorry…I need some time to process this...” She moved away from Stephanie, brushing past the two boys on her way out of the kitchen. Salina ran out the front door of the family cottage, immediately shifting and taking to the sky. 

“What do you suppose that was all about?” Marcus asked.  
“I think she...I think she may be jealous in some way...maybe.” Staphanie replied.  
“Why?” Marcus asked.  
“She’s got abandonment issues, idiot.” Stephaine scolded.  
“What? Why didn’t you mention that before now?” he asked.  
“Because she’s still in the process of remembering who she was...But that...the abandonment...it’s rooted pretty deep. I think, even if she doesn’t remember everything, she still feels that bit.”  
“Shouldn’t somebody go after her?” Stephan asked.  
“Giver her time. She’ll come back.” Mrs. Holmes replied. “Now, I think it’s about time for lunch. Why don’t you children go wash up while I throw something together?” She smiled.  
“Ok.” Stephan pulled Marcus out of the kitchen, leaving Stephaine alone with Anthea and Mrs. Holmes. 

“Thank you, Stephanie.” Mrs. Holmes said, pulling the young woman into a tight hug.  
“She’s so cold, now...since the memories have really started coming back.” Stephanie sniffled into the older woman’s sholder.  
“You can feel it, can’t you?”  
“Feel?” Stephanie asked. 

“Salina...She is your sire...the two of you shared a connection, before...but now, you are-”  
“I feel everything! She’s so...hurt. It’s almost like she feels betrayed.” Stephanie took a step back.  
“Can you hear her thoughts?” Mrs. Holmes asked.  
“Sometimes, when she’s not paying attention to anything in particular. Mostly it feels like...a pressure inside my head. Kind of like a dull headache...she’s there, but doesn’t want to talk to me. Does that make any sense?” 

“Yes, my dear. I believe... you may also feel like she is shutting you out of her life...I don’t think that is the case.”  
“You think she’ll stay with us?” Stephaine asked.  
“I believe that she will. Pehaps, not at Mycroft’s flat...but I doubt she will leave London.” Mrs. Holmes replied with a sad smile. “She is conflicted. She needs her time.”  
“Alright.” Stephanie sighed. “Do you need any help fixing lunch?”  
“No, but thank you for asking, my dear. Now, why don’t you go wash up?”  
“Right.” Stephaine turned and walked toward the door of the kitchen. She paused, “Thank you...Gran,” and continued on her way. 

“That was...You are very sweet, Violet.” Anthea said.  
“Stephanie needs a female role model in her life...and between the two us, Dear, I think she will do just fine.” Violet smiled at the younger women.  
“Us?” Anthea asked, suprised.  
“Yes, us. She needs someone to show her to be kind, gentle, and caring; as well as some one who can help her to be a strong and independant woman. Do you think you can help me give her that?” 

“Yes. Though...why me? Surely her mother-”Anthea began.  
“Mycroft will not let that woman anywhere near the children.”  
“Surely Stephanie and Marcus had somthing to say about that?”  
“When Mycroft and Greg first got together, the children confessed that they did not wish to live with their mother. Her current boyfriend was homophobic and the one before that...well, let’s say he gave poor Stephanie the creeps.” Violet replied. 

“All right. I will help Stephanie the best I can.”  
“That is all I ask...besides, you’re a smart cookie, you can teach her all kinds of useful things.” Violet smiled.  
“Is this part where you tell me that it would be better for her to have someone closer to her age to talk to?” Anthea joked.  
“She may find that helpful, yes.”  
“I won’t let you down, Violet.” Anthea stood. “I should be getting back to the office. Let me know if there are any more problems.”  
“Of course, Dear.” 

***********************************  
{221B}

 

“Sherlock?” John called. He had just returned from a shift at the clinic and the living room was empty.  
“In here, John.” Sherlock replied, quietly, from the bedroom. The shorter man walked towards the direction of his soon-to-be mate’s voice. He paused in the doorway. Sherlock was laying on the bed with a sound asleep Amilia tucked up against his side. The book he had been reading was still open on his lap.

“How long has she been like that?” John asked, amused.  
“Not sure...I’ve been busy cataloging her breathing and pulse rates.  
“You’ve been experimenting on her?” John asked sternly. “She’s not a guinea pig, Sherlock.”  
“No, just observing. I was curious...I swear I haven’t-” The taller man sputtered.  
“Alright, Love. I believe you.” John walked towards the bed. He leaned over, placed a kiss on Sherlock’s lips, and moved to pick up the sleeping babe.

“Can I?” Sherlock asked.  
“Can you what, love?” John looked at the other man curiously.  
“Carry her to the nursery?” Sherlock asked.  
“ ‘Course you can.” John smiled.

Sherlock slowly and carefully moved off the bed, Amilia cradled safely in his arms. He followed John out of the bedroom, through the flat, and up the stairs to the nursery. John turned on the baby monitor system, graciously provided by the elder Holmes. Sherlock placed Amilia in her cradle, one hand and arm supporting the baby’s neck, while the other held her body. She fidgeted some, before going quiet. John placed a large bee plushy next to his daughter. 

“Come, love. She’ll be fine. I’ve got the monitor.” John placed a hand on the taller man’s arm. Sherlock reached up, placing his hand over John’s.  
“Do you think...” He paused, looking down at his slightly rounded tummy.  
“They will get along fine. If there is one thing I know, it’s that children adore you. You will be a great... um...I suppose mother may be correct in these circomstances...”  
“Thank you, John.” Sherlock replied, leaning over to kiss the shorter man.  
“You are most welcome, my love.” John smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading and sticking with it till the very end....The spin off story is in the works, but may take a while. Thus, for now dragonlock is a complete fic.


End file.
